Science of Deduction
by inthelookingglass
Summary: The exceptionally brilliant head is finally balanced by an exceptionally beautiful heart. Sherlock Inspired Klaine AU.
1. A Study In Blue:Crossing Paths

**So I'm kind of in love with the BBC programme Sherlock, and the idea of someone being that clever is so interesting to me... So I decided to write a fanfic loosely based on Sherlock:) It's AU, but I'll try and stick to canon-characterisation when I can. With the 'cases' many of the characters will be minor glee characters, OCs or pulled from books or something:L For example, 'case' in chapter 2 will be "Trent Burton", who was one of the twins Grant Gustin played when he was in CSI:Miami :L.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters. If I did 'The Spanish Teacher' would've been replaced with a Warbler fest, where Riker Lynch and Curt Mega run around trying to find out who knew about the rock salt incident. I also do not own the TV Show that this is loosely based on(nor the books that Sherlock is an adaption of) :D. **

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><p>Kurt Hummel sank back into the park bench, latte in hand, contemplating where his life had went. He'd had dreams. Aspirations. A <em>future. <em>He'd go to New York. He'd be performing at the Gershwin or the Al Hirschfeld or the Booth theatre every other night, the other days spent running through the town, exploring, shopping and meeting new people.

But here he was, at twenty six, sitting in a coffee shop in the middle of Lima, destined to become what people had dubbed a 'Lima loser'. It wasn't like he wasn't trying to get a job- the economy was just not what it used to be, and there was no chance of his dreams coming true anymore.

He'd applied for New York Academy for The Dramatic Arts(NYADA for short) back before graduation, but due to his lack of extracurricular activities, he failed to get a place. He was too late now. Almost all of the successful applicants were under twenty, and it was almost impossible for anyone older to get in. And anyway, he'd not only sent away an application for NYADA, but also for a couple of colleges in the Lima area to get his teaching degree. He'd finished his studies, but founding a job was proving almost impossible for him.

...

"Mercedes?" He groaned, taking a sip of his coffee and stating, "I've not paid the rent for like the last four times, and I don't have the money. I'm losing my apartment today, obviously."

"Can't come stay with me sorry..." she sighed gently, truly sympathetic for her friend. "Sam's still..."

"Is he not any better?"

_"Worse... _Sorry Kurt, but a change in his routine right now might just... yeah."

"Well I don't know anybody else that I could stay with. Is there nobody you know that I could flat-share with? I mean... who'd want to be flatmates with me?"

"You know? You're the _second _person that's said that to me today."

...

Do you ever start thinking about life and how you see things, and think 'do other people see things this way too?'. For example, if you look at something green, do you ever wonder if other people see it as something different to how you see it?

It was a question Blaine Anderson had asked himself quite regularly, but of course he knew the answer. He knew he was different. He knew he saw things in another way. He knew his thought processes were much more complicated. But to him? That was a good thing. It earned him his living. There was a prospect of success for the future. He _liked _it.

_Sure, it wasn't pleasant when the irritating little policewoman Ms. Berry hissed the word 'freak' at him every time he'd been invited to a case she also happened to be working on. _

_"Who invited 'Freak'?" she spat at him one time, almost laughing. "We can handle this case ourselves! We do not need psychopaths like him running around a crime scene."_

_"I'm not a psychopath." Blaine calmly stated._

_"You should have called for his brother Puckerman!" she smiled over to the chief in charge._

As he sat in his flat, which was otherwise unoccupied apart from the housekeeper Mrs Hudson, he contemplated over whether he really was the 'freak' everyone seemed to deem his as. Like usual, he referenced to the map inside of his mind to work it out.

No friends. Not one. Minor acquaintances. None of any significance. None of them he cares about. None of them care about him. Distanced relationship with family. Never see father. Rarely see mother. Brother's better off not mentioned. _Different..._

"Blaine?" It was Mercedes at the door, who was friend of Mrs Hudson's, and therefore knew him too.

"I hear three sets of footsteps. Who else is with you, Mercedes, other than Mrs Hudson?" he smirked, not once moving from his seat to turn and look.

"A friend."

He finally tilted his head to see who the third person was, taking in his entire appearance in case he met him again in future. His facial features were delicate, and his smooth cheek bones, porcelain skin tone and lips that looked as if they'd been carefully painted on by the most talented of artists. He vaguely resembled Peter Pan or Pinocchio or one of those Disney characters(trivial information wasn't particularly important in Blaine's mind), in the sense that it was as if he'd been perfectly crafted, resulting in the kind of perfection that couldn't occur in human life- but somehow it had.

"And he's here because...?" Blaine questioned, his eyes still fixated on Kurt. "He's got a suitcase with him. Can't be going anywhere abroad as the airport's been shut. Suitcase is too big- as if it's containing all of his belongings- so can't be going somewhere overnight. You've come with Mercedes _here_, which means she's after something, as that's the only reason she ever comes round. Clothes and suitcase both expensive, but from old fashion lines. Let me guess... Financial issues. Couldn't pay rent I reckon. I'd mentioned to Mercedes about how I kind of wanted a flat mate, so she's found me one."

"Wait what?" Kurt laughed, realising that he was the one Mercedes had been talking about. "That's brilliant."

"I'd explain why we're here... but you just guessed." Mercedes sighed. "So... Can he stay here?"

"I didn't _guess, _Mercedes. I deduced. And yes. Yes he can."

"I'm Kurt." He smiled, holding his hand out politely for Blaine to shake. "Kurt Hummel."

"Blaine Anderson."

"So... How did you... do that?"

"Do what?"

"Find out all that?"

"Science of deduction. It's quite simple really."

"If you're you." Mrs Hudson remarked.

"It's not my fault you lot don't _observe._ I'm bored. Mercedes? How's Sam?"

"Worse. I mean... I completely get why he's so down about it all... I mean... his dad's just been murdered. I just didn't think... he'd be... so..."

"You're being rather vague about it all Mercedes. What's actually wrong with him?"

"He's just... His mind's messed up." And she'd left, leaving Kurt with this complete stranger who could tell him the events of his day just by looking at him and realising he was holding a suitcase.

...

"Richard Evans. Found dead in his apartment on Friday at three in the afternoon by son Sam Evans. Had recently been told he had only months to live by doctors." The person in charge of the case, Noah Puckerman, began. "Confirmed murder. Not related to any other cases in the news, and unlikely to be related to future cases too."

A selection of rings filled the meeting as all of them received the same text.

_Wrong!- BA._

_..._

"Where are you going?" Kurt looked up as Blaine pulled a navy coat around his shoulders, flicking his collar up in a fashion that would make him look like a douche if he wasn't so innocent looking.

"In case you haven't _deduced..._ Which I doubt you have, because in the hour I've known you, you haven't particularly sparked as observant..." Blaine sighed in a tone that would otherwise make him sound pretentious- but because he was Blaine... "I'm a detective. Well it's not like... an official thing, but the police come to me when they can't solve something sometimes, or when it's a difficult case to begin with... or if I've become involved in the investigation."

"So..."

"But Rachel Berry, who always seems to be involved, refuses to work with me."

"And that's a problem because?"

"I like an assistant. A side-kick if you prefer that kind of wording. You? Up for it?"

"Isn't that like...illegal? Letting random people on crime scenes?"

"They let just about anyone on crime scenes these days. Especially if you're someone of decent profession. Tell me... doctor? Ex-army? Teacher? Anyway, with financial issues I doubt it. If they let me in, they'll let you in no problem.

"Unemployed actually. It's impossible to find a job these days. I have my teaching qualifications, but can't find a job."

"So you've got a whole load of time then? So are you coming or what?"

"Of course I am." And with that, the two stepped outside of the building- 156 McKinley Street- ready to face the task ahead of them.


	2. A Study In Blue:Knowing

**Okay... I have to admit, the thing that inspired me to base this fanfic on Sherlock slightly, was the fact that Moriarty keeps reminding me of Sebastian:L I mean... I can totally imagine Sebastian playing 'Staying Alive' at the most awkward moments ever...**

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><p>"Listen Rachel." Puckerman stated calmly. "I've called Anderson to assess the case. Now... I know you detest the man, but please for once, <em>be nice <em>for goodness sake? You can't deny that Blaine- though irritatingly annoying- is a genius."

"I refuse Noah. I just... I refuse to work with him!"

...

"So the case is...?" Blaine asked Puckerman as they hastily stepped up the stairs.

"Trent Burton. Found by his mother. Take five minutes, and see what you can work out." Noah sighed, phone pressed to his ear as he ran downstairs.

...

The body lay sprawled out onto the floor, the slightest droplets of what looked like dried blood speckling his shirt, despite the absence of a wound for it to drip from. Kurt stepped back- although not from the disgust at seeing a dead body lying on the floor for the first time in his life- letting Blaine do his thing.

"Skin and eyes are both jaundiced and face slightly gaunt... Possibly on something? Or liver problem. Photos on the wall from when he was a kid, jaundice present in them. Liver problem. Lying as if he's fell backwards, head tilted back. Fall was sudden as he's not near anything which he could've grabbed onto if he was feeling dizzy beforehand. Clothes are relatively cheap. T-shirt stained with dried red substance, but no evident wounds in surrounding area or on body." Blaine paused for the first time in his rant to scope his surroundings, finding a set of keys. "House key. House key. Car key, belonging to an expensive car. Obviously not his, nor his mothers, based on his clothes and the house. There's something else... there must be something else."

And he found it. The tiny little white pill lying near Trent's nose. So small that only someone with the most observant of minds would notice it. A layer of its dust sat beneath it, the tablet gazing up at him. Taunting him.

He couldn't quite work out what it could be. Of course, it couldn't have been what killed Trent. But that didn't mean Trent hadn't ingested another of the same pill. He took a shaky breath in, taking a closer look at the tablet. Definitely not some sort of over-the-counter drug, nor an illegal substance. Antibiotic? No. It wasn't like any pill he'd seen before. Some sort of medication to treat liver problems? Nope. It didn't look like that kind of manufactured drug, churned out in mass production. It looked almost specifically made...

"His mother's still in the building, correct?" Blaine raised his eyebrow, receiving a nod from one of the nearby investigators. "Lead me to her?... and contain this piece of evidence, and bring it so I can ask Ms Burton about it?"

...

"This pill look familiar to you?" Blaine raised his eyebrow, glaring at Ms Burton for a moment. "I'm aware that your son was suffering from a liver problem, yes?"

Her breath hitched with a sob, her vocal chords contracting as she hesitated to speak, her mouth alternating from being open to being closed.

"He was dying." She sighed outwards in one breath. "Wilson's disease. Body can't process copper properly or something... my mind's kind of fuzzy at the moment so I can't really think... His liver wasn't functioning properly. The pill's not of familiarity no..."

"Was his death related to his illness maybe?" Kurt spoke for the first time, though regretting getting involved slightly.

"The doctors said just a few days ago... He wouldn't die for a while. He had... months. _Months..._" her eyes widened, fixated on the wall in front of her. "I can't... I just... I can't."

...

"It's related..." Blaine sighed inwardly to himself in the back of the taxi, resulting in a confused look from Kurt. "Do you not notice something strange about this death, and Sam's dad's death?"

"No... should I have?" Kurt looked slightly taken aback.

"Both were terminally ill."

"What about the blood or whatever? I mean there was no wound..."

"I have my theories." He laughed in an almost sarcastic manner.

"Which are...?"

"Well... He could've had a nosebleed, grabbed a tissue and stopped it from dripping- apart from the first initial spurt of blood. The blood was dry. Had been on the shirt for hours. Of course, the exact time of the death isn't specified so we can't tell if the blood's anything to with it. If this has been murder- which I'm convinced it is, because I'm convinced the two cases are connected and Sam's dad was most definitely murdered- it could be the killer's blood perhaps? But why are we so convinced it's blood?"

"What else would it be?"

"Red paint." Blaine smiled gently, his lips upturning into a smirk. "You can tell by the way it'd dried. There were paintings on the wall in the house. Clearly had been painted by Trent. His family isn't particularly wealthy and the paint and canvas were dirt cheap... Not particularly a proper artist's materials don't you think? Not to mention he'd signed his name at the bottom."

"Clever." A dry chuckle erupted from Kurt's throat.

"No... just observant."

...

Blaine sat in the living room of 156 McKinley street, staring down at the coffee table as he tuned the guitar sitting on top of his lap.

"Bored. Bored. Bored." He repeated in monotone.

"Instead of complaining, why not do something?" Kurt laughed. "Go bowling or something? Go get coffee?"

"_Bowling? _What's the mental challenge in chucking a spherical ball at peculiar looking objects? Anyway, coffee sounds nice. Caffeine only fuels the process of my thoughts."

...

"So you're trying to tell me you can figure out loads of things just by looking at one thing..." Kurt shook his head in amazement as the two of them sat in the middle of Lima Bean- the local coffee shop- sipping on cups of coffee, "But you can't even name _one _musical, nor can you tell me who the president is at this current moment in time?"

"It's just trivial information." Blaine sighed, tapping the side of his left temple. "Takes up space."

"But it's _the president. _The man who runs the country we live in."

"Like I said. Trivial information that I don't require to know."

"But even kids as young as three could tell you who Obama is?"

"Obama's a...musical right?"

"Yes Blaine. President Obama is a musical." Kurt rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's information that I don't need to know."

"But it's the president... Anyway... If we're going to be flatmates for a while, we'd better get to know each other."

"But I already know you."

"You only met me a couple of hours ago!"

"That's ample time. Heck, three minutes would've been enough."

"You don't know me Blaine."

"Of course I do. Do you want me to prove it to you?"

"Fine. Prove to me that you can tell my _entire _life story just from my shoes or something."

"Gladly. You wanted to be on Broadway but obviously that dream didn't work out. Your mum died when you were younger. You've never quite got over it and you don't like talking about it much, judging by your facial expression just now."

"Don't-..." Kurt stopped, breathing slowly.

"And you like guys. That's obvious."

"H-how can you know all of that?"

"You're obviously quite passionate about musicals by the way you speak of them. You've got cut outs of signed playbills in your wallet, so you're definitely invested in musical theatre, and I heard you singing under your breath earlier. With a voice like that? Of course you'd want to be on stage! As for your mother... You've also got a picture of her in your wallet, and it's from when you must have been about... three? She's not present in the other photos of you and your dad which are recent, so I'm assuming she's passed away?"

"Yes." Kurt sighed gently. "And me liking guys?"

"Honestly! I'm probably the most observant person you've ever met, and you're doubting my awesome gay-dar?"

"So you know me... But I don't know you. Tell me a bit about yourself! A handsome man like you! Who's the lucky girl that gets to be your girlfriend then?"

"Girlfriends aren't really my thing."

"Boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Any friend at all?"

"Nope."

"Surely that's lonely."

"The world's full of people Kurt. I'm never lonely. _Never._"


	3. A Study In Blue:Metaphor

**You have no idea how much I'm enjoying writing this! It basically means I've been re-watching loads of Sherlock for inspiration, and doing my research... and oh my god it's so fun:) So 'Study in Blue' is almost finished now... after this, it's 'Mutts of Dalton', which will KIND OF be based on Scandal in Belgravia(possibly... I'm not sure yet...) and Hounds of Baskerville. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee- it belongs to Ryan Murphy and his gang of writers/producers/etc and FOX- because if I did, Niff would be canon already, and they'd have solos every week. I do not own Sherlock either- it belongs to BBC and the writers and the author of the original stories. I also don't own the song mentioned in this 'Dancing Through Life', nor do I own the dead character in this Augustus Waters. He's from The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, but I kind of needed his character for something so... Consider this TFIOS fanfiction;) **

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><p>Another lead on the case. That's all Blaine wanted. For the phone to ring, and for it to be Puckerman, telling him to make his way to the location. But the call refused to come, the phone acting as if it had been permanently silenced. He stared at it. Watched it. Studied it. Prayed for it to ring...<p>

_Silence._

Let's just say, Blaine didn't deal with boredom very well. He'd always been one of those people who had to be doing something every waking hour of the day. His mind just wasn't accustomed to _not thinking. _Not thinking about something of importance meant he'd have to start thinking about something about something meaningless like _daytime television _or _love. _His brain was for stimulating, not for filling with a load of gunk like _that._

He finally took his eyes off the silent phone to look at Kurt, watching as he scanned through the novel rested underneath his hands. He looked so _relaxed. _Finding some sort of ambience in doing almost nothing had always been an impossible task for Blaine, so he was almost fascinated by the way Kurt could sit and shut his mind of from the world, delving into the virtual land created in fiction.

Kurt looked up, half-aware that Blaine was watching him, so decided to stare at him with a similar studious mindset. Blaine's hair- which had formerly been gelled back, making him look slightly dapper and sophisticated- had fallen from its helmet of gel, revealing his soft dark brown curls that draped over his forehead slightly. His eyebrows arched into two shapes that strangely resembled the shape of Doritos, and on anyone other than him they'd look stupid, but for some reason they just added to his bizarre beauty.

That's the only way Kurt could describe Blaine. Bizarrely beautiful. An abstract masterpiece. A dazzling oddity. His brilliant smartness, although very strange and sometimes kind of irritating, was almost like an art form.

Blaine's eyes had yet to return their gaze to the phone again as he watched Kurt, who had placed his novel beside the arm chair and curled up, close to falling asleep. Usually, the simple act of just watching someone _without _deducting the events of their day from the clothes they were wearing would bore Blaine to death, but for some reason, he watched Kurt with ease. His mind seemed to switch off, not requesting to be the focus of attention anymore, as his breathing relaxed and he sunk back into his own chair, close to drifting off to sleep himself.

'_Dancing through life, skimming the surface.'_

Blaine was awoken by the lull of Kurt's gentle voice, singing what Blaine deduced to be one of Kurt's much talked about 'musical theatre' numbers.

_'Gliding where turf is smooth... Life's more painless, for the brainless. Why think too hard, when it's so soothing?'_

Blaine watched as Kurt obliviously danced around the living room with a duster in hand without a care in the world.

"Your voice is nice." A grin spread across Blaine's lips.

"T-thanks..." Kurt notice Blaine was watching him and immediately put a halt to his little 'performance'.

"Hey don't be embarrassed! You're talented."

"Am I now? So do you sing at all?"

"Nope."

"Play any instruments."

"Guitar. Piano. Cello. Violin. I just compose though. It helps me to think."

"Do you ever _not _think? Can't you just... shut your brain down for that?"

"And the purpose of that would be?"

"Relaxation?" Kurt sighed.

...

The previously silent phone suddenly wasn't so silent anymore, as it rung out loudly throughout the flat, resulting in Blaine leaping with an expression of joy.

"Puckerman?" he answered, knowing who it would be without even having to wait and find out.

"The two cases. Robert Evans and Trent Burton? They're connected." He stated.

"How'd you know?"

"They found the same pill that you found at the Burton crime scene at the Evans crime scene. It's just a sugar pill. They've finished all the tests and things now, and we've found out what caused their deaths."

"What?"

"Copper Sulphate. Both had ingested it. Another case has arisen, which has similarities, but we can't be sure if it's connected till they run tests. Will you come?"

...

"What's the deal with this copper sulphate then?" Kurt asked Blaine as they sat in the back of the taxi cab. "Is it like a poison or something?"

"It was used as an emetic." Blaine laughed. "Honestly, did you not take chemistry at school or something?"

"An emetic? What does that mean? And no. I may have excelled in the language based subjects... but science just isn't for me."

"Copper Sulphate is an irritant. It irritates the gastrointestinal tract, and induces immediate vomiting. But... how? How did it enter their systems?"

"I don't know. Swallowed it? Forced down their throats? And can I ask... why am I here?"

"Ask yourself that question. Why are you here?"

"I mean... what help am I to you or these cases?"

"You may not be as observant as I, Kurt..." Blaine breathed out slowly. "But you're clever. And you're empathetic. That's good for me. I'm not good with that sort of thing."

"What? Emotions?"

"Yes. Caring is just so... difficult. Caring just ends in the worst kind of pain. I can't... care. Well... I don't want to care.

"What's the worst kind of pain?"

"Emotional pain. Physical pain's bearable. It's like a reminder that you're still alive. But emotional pain? That just reminds me I'm human. You wait outside on this case alright?"

...

"Augustus Waters. Seventeen years old. Found here at this church... Find out what you can..." Puck said calmly.

"Prosthetic leg. Overall looks quite sickly- slightly jaundice, bruises on body. G-tube inserted in stomach. Osteosarcoma. Terminal. Died from choking on his own vomit- just like the other two- and... sugar pill. Sitting right next to his nose. Anything else... anything else..." he looked around for a moment, noticing a packet of cigarettes that he felt obliged to pick up. "None of these have been smoked, but there are teeth marks indented into the tops of most of them."

"What does that mean?"

"I...don't know. Wait!" he smiled, having realised something. "Anyone who knows him present here?"

"His mother. She's talking to the investigation department."

"Organise for me to talk to her."

...

"These cigarettes," he began, holding up the packet of Marlboro lights. "Haven't been lit."

"It's a metaphor." She laughed gently, her face contorting with almost depressing nostalgia. "He puts the thing that could kill him in his mouth, but doesn't give it the power to kill him."

"Thank you Mrs Waters." He tried to hide his smile, knowing that he'd cracked it, but not wanting to come across as insensitive. "Sorry about your loss."

...

"You're not his friend you know." Rachel Berry smirked at Kurt. "He doesn't have friends."

"I'm aware." Kurt nodded curtly. "Just met the guy."

"Then stay away from him okay?"

"And why should I do that?"

"You know why he's here? He doesn't earn any money or anything. It's for fun. He gets off on this sort of thing. The weirder the crime, the more excited he gets."

"Why?"

"Because he's a psychopath. I mean... I'm no doctor or anything so I can't like... diagnose that... But he's a creep. But anyway, psychopaths get bored. One day this all won't be enough for him. We'll be standing around a body that he put there."

"You obviously don't know him." Kurt sighed, not sure what to think.

...

"We're dealing with a serial killer here." Blaine thought aloud to Kurt as the two walked along the street, having decided to walk home instead of getting a cab. "But his motive... what's his motive?"

"No matter what their motive is," Kurt looked away for a moment, before returning his gaze towards Blaine. "We're dealing with someone who's pretty damn heartless."

"All three of them were dying. That's somehow related... but how would the killer know about it? Wait! He's a doctor. The killer's a doctor. He's rich. You can tell from the keys found at the Trent Burton crime scene. Of course he's a doctor. A doctor that knew all of them surely. None of their illnesses were really connected. Mr Evans had a heart defect, Trent had liver issues, and Augustus was dying of cancer. Those sorts of things have specialists... So what doctor would have treated them all? One in the ER. Kurt! We're going to have to take a little trip to Lima Memorial."

...

"How on _earth _are we going to get into the ER, when neither of us are ill or injured?" Kurt queried.

"Honestly Kurt... for someone clever," Blaine stopped to laugh. "You're pretty stupid. We fake it. We fake an illness, or use carefully applied makeup to look like we've been beaten up."

"I...don't like lying."

"Then we won't then. Punch me."

"What?"

"Just shut up and punch me in the face."

"I'm not going to punch you in the face Blaine."

"Please just punch me already!"

"I'm no-..."

"PUNCH ME!"

So following Blaine's orders, Kurt did. His fist crashed against Blaine's lip, like a meteor colliding with earth. Blaine fell, taken aback by the 'attack' for a moment, placing his hand up to his mouth.

"Am I bleeding?" he mumbled, his lip beginning to swell slightly.

"You're not half..." Kurt, feeling slightly, rushed for paper towels to clean up the laceration.

"Perfect. Let's go."


	4. A Study In Blue:Risk

**So in this chapter, everything's concluded... and Blaine admits to Kurt that he's not as heartless as he makes out to be:') yay:) I've uploaded this fanfic onto 'Scarves and Coffee' if you'd rather read it on that: ?sid=2774&chapter=1 . I might post it on tumblr too, but even after like... a year of having a tumblr page, I still hardly know how to use it:L**

**Thanks to The Purple Lady, tic tac toe 03, Azusa-Angel, Morgan Pen, AngelisIgniRelucent and Soul-Kit524 for your reviews on the first three chapters(:**

**By the way, the next instalment 'Mutts of Dalton' might have some Seblaine in it, if that's okay? Well more... Sebastian flirting with Blaine, and Blaine not liking it:L**

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><p>Blaine, sporting a bloody fat lip, stepped into the emergency room, his face a faked picture of pain as he rushed 'worriedly' towards the reception. Kurt followed behind, pretending to look sympathetic towards Blaine, his acting skills coming in handy.<p>

"H-help..." Blaine exasperated, his breath shaky and broken.

"Calm down sir. Take a seat over there. A doctor will be available to see you in a bit okay?" the receptionist spoke coldly, obviously awaiting her nearing tea-break with great anticipation.

He looked around, noticing that the ER was missing something. Something vital.

That something was people. The presence of life wasn't very present at all. The only promise of vitality sourced back to the old man in the corner of the waiting area, although from his laboured breathing and pallid complexion, Blaine could tell he didn't have much life in him. Blaine reluctantly took a seat on one of the chairs, his height causing him to fail in dwarfing the uncomfortable lump of blue plastic.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kurt whispered to him.

"Of course." Blaine replied.

"Why did you tell me not to come into the case with you?"

"Honestly? I didn't want it to upset you. With the other case? I didn't know your mum had died. I noticed in the picture of her you have in your wallet... She's got quite short hair. I thought... Did she die of cancer Kurt?"

"Yes."

"Well I realised... If the case was connected, the person would be dying, and there's a possibility they could've had the same illness your mum had and... I was right. He had osteosarcoma. I didn't... want you getting upset."

"And you say that Blaine Anderson doesn't care!" Kurt smiled gently. "Thank you. Just... thank you."

"I care when I want to care."

"And you wanted to care?"

"Well I cared didn't I?"

...

"Blaine Anderson? I'm Doctor Rivers." the doctor's voice was slightly croaky, which alarmed Blaine slightly as he fixated his eyes on him. "Sorry. Your friend can't come in just yet."

He was pale, in the sense that it wasn't his ordinary complexion, and his eyes were at least three shades darker than what Blaine would deem as healthy.

"I know who you are." The doctor smirked slightly. "And I know why you're here."

"I'm Blaine Anderson." He smiled smarmily, "And I'm here because I hurt my lip."

"No. You're here to investigate. Someone told me about you."

"Who?"

"Someone. You've got yourself a little fan."

"Anyway, what would I have to investigate?"

"The deaths that have been in the news? You know- or at least you think- it's me who killed them."

"Is that a confession?"

"Of course it is. And now I've told you... I'm going to have to kill you too."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Alright. I'm going to do exactly what I did with them with you- give you the experience eh? Pick a place Blaine. A place that means something to you. Mr Evans chose his home. Trent did too. Augustus chose that church. Chose somewhere Blaine. Anywhere."

"My house." He smiled calmly.

...

And they went to Kurt and Blaine's flat, avoiding Kurt so he wouldn't follow behind- although Blaine had sent a quick text to him but it'd been cryptic and confusing. They were sat at the dining table, their eyes fixated on the others'.

_Off to have a little talk with the doctor. Don't go back to the flat yet. Wait outside. – BA._

You'd think Blaine was stupid, sitting in the middle of his own apartment with a man he knew to be a murderer, but this was what he did. He risked his life in seemingly irresponsible situations to prove that he was clever. Dr Rivers smiled queasily, reaching into his pockets for two little bottles.

Both contained little white tablets, identical to the sugar pills found at the crime scenes. He removed one pill from each bottle, and placed them onto the table. They stared up at Blaine. Taunting him into taking a risk. Convincing him to play the game.

"You've got to admit," Dr Rivers' voice was deep, "It's clever isn't it? Who'd expect the dying doctor to have done it?"

"You're dying?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, acting shocked although he'd known that it could've been a possible motive.

"My heart's giving in. But anyway, people trust me with their lives. They trust me to treat them. Make them better... Of course they wouldn't suspect me."

"It's not clever. It's just common sense."

Flippantly, the doctor continued to talk, "And people have this way of treating people who are dying. They act like they are... special. That even if they were the most awful people in existence before their illness, that they are nice, strong people. They treat your battle with an illness like they'd treat someone fighting on the front line. They view you as a hero, so obviously I'm not going to be an obvious suspect for serial killings."

"Anyway," Blaine sighed. "The pills. What do they do?"

"I tell them that one of these pills could cure them of all illness. I tell them I'll take the other pill. They believe me of course, because who doesn't believe a doctor? Then I tell them that the other pill would kill them. The prospect of choice... Of course they decided to play the game didn't they? Well... of course they would, considering I threatened them at gun-point... But I don't have to do that with you. The risk lures you in just fine."

"I'm not dying. I don't need to be cured of anything. Why would that... lure me in?"

"The risk would. You'd risk everything just to prove you're clever, wouldn't you?"

"And what if

"It wouldn't kill me."

"And why not?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"It's copper sulphate that's in one of these pills. Immediately induces vomiting. It'd only kill if the person choked on the puke... Of course you assured that happened. How did you do it? Push them over? Get them to lie on the floor and take it?"

"Push them over of course. Hold them down. Anyway... Get choosing."

Blaine picked up one of the pills, knowing that whatever one he picked, he'd make sure that he wasn't going to die. The doctor picked up the other pill, his hand shaking nervously.

"Place the pill into your mouth." Dr Rivers smiled uneasily.

The doctor winced as the pill entered his mouth, his hand pressed to his chest in distress. He was screaming. Screaming so loud that Kurt could hear him from outside. Screaming so loud that he'd shocked Blaine into swallowing the pill in his mouth...

The copper sulphate pill. He'd immediately known it was the one he'd swallowed. At least two grams of the blue compound had entered his system. The fire was building in his oesophagus, it's embers burning the lining of his throat.

...

"Blaine?" at the sound of the scream, Kurt had come rushing into the apartment, prepared for the worst.

The body. The dead body lying in front of him. The cold _dead _body. Silent and unmoving. The sight made him want to gag, but he took a shaky breath in, looking around the flat to avoid looking at the body again. It's unmoving set of green eyes sent anxiety pulsing through his entire body, as if it had contaminated his blood.

"Blaine?" he shouted out again, noticing that he was absent.

"K-kurt..." Blaine voice was unfamiliarly broken, coming out as nothing more than a croak.

"Where are you?"

"B-bathroom..."

Kurt opened the door slowly, revealing the limp vulnerable man curled over the toilet. Blaine retched, his body convulsing over the porcelain bowl. Shivering, he looked up to Kurt for a moment, feeling his stomach flip with another bout of nausea. The sweat had matted his curls to his pale forehead, making him look even more vulnerable than he actually was.

"What happened to you?"

"I put the..." he stopped for a moment, catching his breath. "Killing thing in my mouth, but didn't give it the power to kill me."

"Well... There's a dead man lying in our living room. I'm phoning an ambulance."

...

"Cardiac arrest apparently." Kurt sighed to Blaine, who was sat on the little step of the ambulance, an orange blanket draped around his shoulders. "Wouldn't wish that on anyone... well maybe a serial killer like him but yeah... Feeling better?"

"Well I haven't barfed in five minutes. I'm calling that an improvement!" Blaine laughed gently.

"Copper sulphate ingestion." The paramedic checking Blaine's vitals smirked jokingly, "How the hell did you ingest copper sulphate?"

"Honest answer? A dying serial killer tried to practically shove it down my throat."

"Well you've only ingested a little bit of it. It's toxic, but it's not that toxic. Unless you want to, you needn't come get checked out at the hospital. Anyway I don't think you're going to throw u-..." she stood back as Blaine puked nearby Kurt's shoes, "Maybe I shouldn't talk so soon. Good thing your boyfriend here isn't an emetephobe."

"He's not my boyfriend-" Kurt began to protest, a grin spreading across his face.

"Yet." Blaine looked up, laughing whole heartedly.


	5. Mutts Of Dalton:Tremble

**Why I keep making science references in my fanfics is beyond me...(honestly... 'diffusion', 'copper sulphate', 'vacuole'... I should just become a damn scientist already;))... Possibly because I'm one of the only fifteen in my year taking 3 sciences to Intermediate 2 but you know...;)**

**So... Here's the first part of 'Mutts of Dalton' :) Not sure what the next bit is going to be once MOD is done... Been sat reading through some old Sherlock Holmes stories, but somehow I don't think The Red Haired League's going to be much inspiration...**

* * *

><p>The bow gently brushed against the strings of the violin, a sound of screeching beauty diffusing through the room. Blaine's face lit up at the success in playing the complementing series of notes, for once being able to not think while playing. Before, his mind would be so occupied with other things, whether it be a case or physics or whatever, that he'd distance himself so far from the music that he couldn't even hear it. But for some reason, the simple art of making music was just that. <em>Simple. <em>Not over complicated. Not a second thought. Just an art of simplicity. What had changed?

_Kurt. _For once, Blaine was close to someone. He had a friend. Something he'd never had before- and if he had, the memory had been deleted from his mind, meaning he had no recollection of it.

"You know, normally when I don't have a case I'm bored..." Blaine sighed calmly. "But today... I'm actually enjoying having nothing to do."

"Shutting off from your thoughts has a point doesn't it?" Kurt grinned. "You know, you've not had a big case since the copper sulphate thing, and that was a month ago."

"Which is exactly why I've decided to fill the empty little vacuole of this cell of boredom with a trip to my old university. Care to accompany me?"

"Ok. Where exactly is it we're going then?"

"Dalton University. It's in Westerville. Well... it's not just a university. The professors use the laboratories with the best students for experiments about like... genetics and things."

"So when did you go there then?"

"Spent three years there. My course was meant to last six years, but you know... I'm smart."

"Smart is an understatement. Anyway... Why the sudden need to go and visit?"

"Well... Dalton's a pretty eccentric place. You have to be pretty tolerant to cope with it. One of my old friends on my old course called and said he's coming to visit and it's led me to kind of... want to go see the other lot too. He'll be arriving soon."

...

He flipped his thick mop of blonde hair nervously, ruffling the dark brown roots of it as Blaine glared over at him. He wasn't aware that he was shivering until his shaking hand threatened to spill the cup of coffee Kurt had just handed to him. His free hand quivered, hesitating between his pocket and the armrest.

"It's nice to see you Jeff." Blaine broke the silence, which had prior only been filled by the sound of breathing. "So what's your reason for coming? I'm assuming there's a reason, seeing as getting away from Dalton for even a day is a difficult task."

"I've not been... myself you see. I get... anxious."

"As I recall, you've always been of nervous temperament. Why would that bring you here?"

"You know about... my father?" Jeff's voice came out shaken, as if all of his anxiety had been integrated into his words.

"I'm aware of what happened yes, but... you were there when it happened weren't you?"

And Jeff went onto explain, his lip trembling...

...

_Jeff, being only six years old, hadn't particularly learned to appreciate the beauty of being able to walk for miles and miles around some boring- yet undeniably beautiful- landscaped nature. The only thing that alleviated his boredom was the thought that one day, he'd be attending the university that stood ahead of him. His father- Alexander Dalton- was a highly respected man, having been the head at Dalton University for the past ten years and his great grandfather being the founder of the establishment. He hadn't always agreed with the practices of some of the professors took part in, but the university was his family's pride and joy, and he didn't want to break family tradition, just down to some morals._

_Something._

_Something was there. It was dark, so Jeff couldn't really make out what it was, but there was... something. A... dog? No. It was more like... a mutant dog. Larger than a Great Dane, it's red eyes glowing. It pounced, pushing his father to the ground. _

_He was dead. His dad was dead._

_ ..._

"It was a...mutt. A gigantic mutt..." Jeff's voice came out in nothing more than a mumbled tremble.

"Why now Jeff? Why've you come here? And more importantly, how did you get the time away from Dalton?" Blaine laughed slightly, doing nothing to calm Jeff's nerves.

"Like I said... I get nervous. I had to take a few months out of my studies because I couldn't go through a day without... panic attacks and... I've only recently returned, so they're being pretty lenient with me."

"Why've you come here though? I'm assuming something must have happened last night."

"I... returned to the place. W-where my dad was killed. My therapist said just to get used to the area again... I went. It was light out and... I saw animal footprints..."

"Nothing unusual. Probably just footprints of a pet dog or something."

"They were foot prints of a gigantic mutt!"

"Why that choice of words? Why not dog?"

"I...don't know?"

"You've brought your car right?"

"How else do you think I got here?"

"Let me and Kurt pack some stuff, then we're coming back to Dalton with you okay?"

"Okay."

...

Cooper Anderson was the kind of older brother who- though a lovely person at heart- never failed to be the most aggravating person in the whole entire world. The seven year difference between him and his little brother seemed to act as his excuse for being a greater irritant to his brother than the copper sulphate that occupied Blaine's stomach the month before.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise to Blaine when he saw his brother standing outside of Dalton, his lips pressed against a cigarette as he leaned against the wall, breathing out a puff of polluting smoke.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke those death sticks Coop..." Blaine hissed slightly at his brother.

"Well hello to you too little bro!" he winked back, looking down and taking advantage of the height difference. "It's not as if you'd care if I got throat cancer or something."

"Well I'm sorry, but passive smoking isn't particularly the most enjoyable experience."

"What are you doing here anyway? It's not like you ever had friends here to visit?"

"And why are you still here? Have you really been taking another course here, or are you still trying to pass the first one?"

"I'm subbing for a professor actually. If you actually paid attention to what's being going on within the family, you'd know that I finished that third physics course two years ago. What are you doing here? And who's your _friend_?"

"I'm on a case." Blaine smirked. "And this is Kurt. My erm... flatmate."


	6. Mutts Of Dalton:Fear

**Sorry for not updating as often as I usually have... I stupidly spilt irn bru over my laptop and they keyboard stopped working so...:|**

* * *

><p>Blaine had never seen the point in socialising. It just took up valuable space in his brain, which could've otherwise be occupied by something much more important. In his eyes, having friends held you back. He had managed to convince himself that caring was never an advantage- to him, it was quite the opposite actually. Sure, he'd talked about science and things like that with other students at Dalton like Jeff or Nick or Wes, and all of the other students wanted to be his friend because he was so <em>smart,<em> but he considered most of them as close aqcuaintances as opposed to _friends. _Was Kurt a friend to him? He couldn't really answer that question himself. In a sense, he was. From the first night they spent together, they just... got on well. They didn't need months of bonding time to get to know each other- they'd just clicked within _minutes._

Anyway, it was for this reason that he was surprised by the welcome greeting he recieved as he walked through the large doors of the common room with Jeff and Kurt. They half-ran/half-charged towards him, welcoming him with hugs and exclaims of 'what have you been up to?' and 'we've missed you!'. He smiled in an almost shy manner at the foriegn gesture, sending a slightly nervous glare in Kurt's direction.

"What the hell are you doing here?" one of them who he remembered as Nick. "It's been two years and you haven't visited once Mr Consulting Detective!"

"I've not got anyone to really visit Nick." Blaine winced at Nick's slur of his nickname. "I'm here to investigate a case actually."

"Is this about the dog thing?" he recognised the new voice as Thad's. "The Mutts of Dalton or whatever it's called. I reckon it's a myth, but you should ask Trent about it. He's seen it a couple of times. Anyway... Who's the guy with you? Somebody special?"

"This is Kurt. My erm... flatmate."

"Well hello." an unfamilar voice joined into the mix of already quabbling voices as a man stepped up towards Blaine, his hand outstretched for a handshake. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Sebastian Smythe."

"Blaine Anderson." he nodded curtly, accepting the handshake. "So how long have you been attending Dalton then?"

"Just a couple of months actually. Been to a couple of different places before this, but never found the right major to be honest."

"So where else have you attended?" Kurt asked, making small-talk.

"Spent a week at NYADA when I left high school... Hated it. Do I really want to be surrounded by people who think they sound like Barbara Striesand or Judy Garland, when they're actually worse than Katy Perry trying to sing live? Nope." Kurt winced, remembering that NYADA was where he'd hoped to attend. "And then I was offered a place at Elon, but by then I was bored of musical theatre and ended up spending a couple of semesters at NYU instead."

"So Blaine, are you tagging along with us tonight?" Nick smiled.

"Where?"

"Party."

"Well... I've only just arrived and I'm meant to be here for a case... And on that note, where can me and Kurt stay during our time here?"

"There's plenty of empty dorms. Please just come! We're just going to the hall over at the other side of the building."

"Fine..."

...

The synths blared from the speakers at the corners of the room, practically hypnotising every human being in the entire room to jerk and twist in the act aptly named 'dancing'. Even Blaine, who lazily clutched the beer Sebastian had just handed him in his hand, was tapping his foot as he leaned against a chair. With Sebastian in charge of music for that time, it was as if the same song was being played on constant repeat, the lazily written drawl of oddly mesmorizing dance-pop music filling the hall. Nick and Jeff had decided to take over, turning the hall into a karaoke bar.

"Care to sing with me?" Sebastian winked in Blaine's direction.

"Sure..." Blaine smiled, having loosened up a little after a bit of alcohol.

...

_"If we catch a criminal..." _Blaine held the microphone up to his mouth, singing enthusuastically into it.

"_When we catch a criminal..." _Sebastian danced around the stage a bit, sending a couple of flirty glares towards Blaine.

_There's nothing we can do... but play cops and robbers, cops and robbers..." _They sung together, their voices combining into a harmony.

_"Line them up... against a wall... and shoot them all..." _Sebastian sighed into his microphone.

...

"You're not half bad Anderson." Sebastian half slurred, the beer in his hand taking effect.

"Right back at you." Blaine smiled.

"The others are heading out for a wander round the grounds. You and Kurt coming?"

"Hell yeah!"

"I think I'm going to head to bed actually. I'm tired. Where's the room we're meant to be sleeping in?" Kurt yawned.

"You're sharing a dorm with Blaine's brother. Dorm 2 on the first floor of the right building. JEFF?" Sebastian turned away for a second. "You coming?"

"Yeah!" he shouted back, the alcohol giving him a new sense of... bravery.

...

It was like one of those scenes in a horror film, their sole purpose being to set the scene. Dark, but not dark enough for shadows not to be visible. Foggy, but not foggy enough to make them unable to see anything. Cold, but not cold enough that they all wanted to go back indoors. Sebastian laughed in an almost evil manner, picking up a rock off the floor and juggling it between his hands. Some of them complained of being cold, forcing them back inside, leaving only Blaine- who didn't mind the low temperature- and Jeff- whose new sense of false bravery made him willing to stand in the spot where his dad had been killed.

The shadow flickered past almost too quickly for Blaine to see, but thankfully, it appeared properly just afterwards. It was only for a moment, but it was there. The mutt. It was there. And it was just that- a mutt. Although it was a dog... it wasn't _just _a dog. It was... a monster. A huge gigantic mutated hybrid of a monster. Around Dalton, the myth had always been something of a joke, dubbing people like Jeff as crazy, but Blaine had saw it, and as far as he was concerned he wasn't anywhere near crazy. He'd saw the infamous mutt with his own eyes, the image unwillingly etched into his brain, inducing something he wasn't used to feeling... _Fear. _


	7. Mutts Of Dalton:Vulnerable

**Thanks for reading:D! There's still quite a bit of Mutt's of Dalton to go, but I need to think what to base the next chapter on... What do you guys think? Something to do with the reichenbach fall from 'The Final Problem' or 'The Dying Detective'? **

_In__ the common room. Please come, if convienient. -BA._

Kurt sighed as the ring of the text filled the room, rubbing his eye lazily. He'd been close to finally falling asleep, but the chirpy tone had awoken him. He had no desire to get up to sort out whatever Blaine had gotten him into. He just assumed that he was drunk or something, and rolled over to try and delve back into his slumber.

_If inconvenient come anyway...Please. -BA._

* * *

><p>"You know Blaine, I was almost sleeping. And just so you know? It wasn't convienent." Kurt half-hissed tiredly, not turning to look at Blaine.<p>

"Kurt..." Blaine breathed out shakily, his voice breaking mid-sentence, forcing him to swallow the lump forming in his throat before continuing. "I'm s-sorry."

"Are... you okay?"

"I _saw_ it Kurt. I saw it..."

"What?"

"The mutt... I s-s-saw the mutt..."

Kurt took notice of the fact that Blaine was shaking, and by that he didn't mean he was shivering a little as if he was cold- it was more like he was sitting on top of the line between two of the earth's tectonic plates, making him _quake. _His jittering left hand rested against his temple as he breathed awkwardly, his other hand leaning into his chest. His eyes kept averting back to the window nervously, until he turned to face Kurt.

"Now Blaine... be rational... It was dark and scary and you've consumed so much alcohol that you wouldn't look out of place at an alcoholic's anonymous meeting. Now I think uou've just got yourself a little worked up, so just calm down and we'll go get you a drink of water okay? You don't want to wake up with an awful hangover do you?"

"Worked up? _Worked up?_ Look at me Kurt. I'm shaking." Blaine held up his hand. "So I'd appreciate it if you would stop the patronizing tone of voice please? I'm _fine._ There's nothing wrong with _me! _Just because I- the _amazing_ Blaine Anderson- exceed the intelligence of the majority of the human race, it doesn't mean I can't be scared about something, so can you please just _leave me alone!" _

"Anyway, you're not going to listen to me... I'm just a friend."

"I don't have... _friends."_

_"_Heh... No wonder..."

* * *

><p>With no desire to make his way to the dormitory, Blaine decided to stay put although Kurt had left, trying to piece together his unfamilarly muddled mind into thinking about something of value, like maths or physics or the trees outside- just anything but what he was thinking about before hand. He couldn't be vulnerable. He couldn't let himself be vulnerable. Vulnerability equaled to giving up in his books. Letting his walls down. Revealing the metaphoric scars. Informing everyone around him that he was normal. <em>Nowhere near extraordinary.<em>

It was cold- or at least, Blaine thought it was. So cold in fact, that although his face had paled to a shade of white that didn't even seem natural, his knuckles and fingers were an even more unnatural blemish of bright scarlet.

He felt vulnerable, as if the entire world was crumbling down around him and there was nothing he could do to prevent the casualties. As if every casualty from the destruction was a part of his body, causing his body to quiver above the discintegrating crust of the earth. Outside, the beginnings of a storm were taking effect, battering rain against the window, but for Blaine, it felt more like it was crashing against his head, pounding at his sk

"Blaine?" he turned to find his brother standing at the door. "There you are. Kurt sent me to find you..."

"Leave me alone C-Coop..."

The stutter. The tiny little stutter. The miniscule break in his voice. He mentally beat down on himself, drumming it into his _stupid _little mind that he_ wasn't _vulnerable... But of course, Blaine had never been one to believe lies.

"Are you okay?"

"Since when have you ever cared?" Blaine stated, breathing inwardly to try and stay calm. "And I'm fine._ Perfectly_ fine."

"I'm not letting you sit here all night Blaine. From what I've heard, you've had quite a few beers tonight, and I think it would be advisable for you to come and get a glass of water okay?"

"I DON'T WANT A FREAKING GLASS OF WATER..." he snapped. "I don't want anything. I don't want you standing here treating me like some little kid! I don't want Kurt patronizing me just because I'm a little on edge! I don't want anything. I don't need anything. Please... Leave me alone."

"Blaine..." Cooper's voice was abnormally soft. "Please. It's an act. All your 'independent', 'I don't need anyone' attitude? It's all an act. I know it's an act. But see everyone else? They don't. You're allowed to be vulnerable. You're allowed to be scared. Caring about how you feel, and what you feel, and reacting to what you see? That's human. That's normal. That's_ real."_

_"_C-Coop..." and he broke, for just a second, his face contorting for a moment into somewhere between trying to keep himself together, and attempting to let himself go.

"What happened Blaine?"

"...The mutt. I saw it... And I know it's not real... And I know it's a rumour... But I saw it... But seriously... why do you even care? We've not spoken in like three years!"

"You're my brother Blaine. Our relationship may be... strained... but it's not as if I don't care. I know what you're like. You live your life standing on a ledge, so that when you fall to your fate it doesn't come as a shock, but sometimes? The realisation that you're dangling between refuge and danger hits you. You're stumbling over your feet. You feel like you're about to fall. I completely understand that Blaine. Now come on and get some sleep eh?"

* * *

><p>"It's real..." Jeff mumbled the next morning, his voice strained thanks to both a hangover and his anxious state. "The mutt is real. Blaine saw it too... It's real."<p>

"I saw it..." Blaine took a sip of his coffee. "But I know it's not real. That's why I'm freaking out over seeing it. Something made me see it. A drug maybe... But how..."

Jeff was shaking again, his mind becoming all to familar to feeling like it was filled with concrete. Fear had become life. Any chance of fast-tracking his course(like Blaine), like he'd been told he'd be able to in his first year, was out of the question. He felt _insane. _Obsessed with the fact the nobody else panicked over the smallest things. Nobody else screamed at the thought of darkness. Nobody else couldn't stand anywhere near a dog without convulsing in anxiety. Nobody else believed the 'mutt' was real. He felt like a freak- as if normality had never quite struck him, leaving him believing that he was an outcast. He stared down at the floor, unaware that he was crying until the dark stain of salty tears hit against his light jeans.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked- and although his expression of empathy was slightly out of character for him, he felt it was necessary as he'd been in the same position the night before, with the addition of having a drink in him.

"Yes." Jeff laughed half-heartedly, desperately trying to wipe his eyes. "Fine."

"Is that _empathy _Blaine?" Kurt smirked calmly, not sure if he was making a joke to cheer up Jeff, or if he was in the mood for a laugh. "Maybe you do need me. I'm teaching you well!"

"Nice..." Blaine sighed, feeling slightly guilty about the night before. "I'm sorry about last night."

"It's alright. You were... drunk."

"I meant what I said you know... I don't have friends." Blaine smiled. "I just have one."

Kurt grinned, his lips spreading into a smile wider than most of his face.

"Are you two like... going out?" Jeff joked. "Because I swear, you two would be adorable together."

"No we're not together ye-..." Kurt began, but was cut off by Blaine.

"But we could be."


	8. Mutts of Dalton:Research

**Awkward Niff friendship and insensitive but comical Blaine for the win:'D! oh and... we get into Sebastian's mindset and meet his father:)**

* * *

><p>Any idea how we could break into the labs?" Blaine smiled almost too casually towards Jeff and Nick-who had just walked into Jeff's dorms. "I want to do a little bit of investigating."<p>

"Unless you've got a crowbar, a giant jar of peanut butter and a lifesize cut out of Edward Cullen?" Nick raised an eyebrow, as if what he said didn't strike as weird to him. "There's no way I can get you in."

"Um Nick? Why don't we just use one of our access cards?" Jeff laughed, jokingly hitting the back of Nick's head. "And... peanut butter? I understand the crowbar, and worryingly the lifesize Edward cullen cut out... but why the peanut butter?"

"I get hungry sometimes."

"This might just be me getting back at you for trying to pair Blaine and I up... but are you two together?" Kurt chuckled. "The chemistry between you two is unbearable!"

"Nope. We're just heterosexual soul-mates!" Jeff high fived Nick. "And you're one to talk. The awkward eye contact between you and Blaine makes me want to scream 'get a room already'!"

"Enough with the joking... We need to get to the lab." Blaine stated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly."

...

It was white. Bright clean white. Almost too bright. Almost too clean. Blaine looked around, searching for even a smidge of any other colour. The stench of antiseptic cleaning products wrapped around his throat like a noose, the lingering smell of whatever had been cleaned up stinging between his nostrils. Jeff seemed to be growing more uncomfortable, the colour his skin slowly beginning to blend in with the walls of the room.

"Jeff! Nick!" an older man walked up to them. "And who's this?"

"This is Kurt," Nick pointed to him, before directing his hands towards Blaine. "And this is Blaine, who used to study here. Jeff and I are just here to pick up a few things for an assignment."

"Oh, I remember you! I used to only work with the forensic students, but I remember seeing you around." he held out a hand. "Professor Greg Smythe."

"Nice to meet you...wait? Smythe? Are you related to Sebastian Smythe?"

"Yes... he's my son."

"N-N-Nick! The smell! I f-feel..." Jeff winced, shakily pressing the back of his hand to his lips. "Is there a bin or a bucket or something?"

"Puke on the floor." Blaine smirked, his voice showing no signs of sympathy. "This place could do with a bit of colour. Anyway, I've just seen the rota up on the active whiteboard over there. My brother's class is in here next. He can clean it up... Or, knowing him and his... emetephobia, contribute to this _lovely _colourful display- oh how I wish he'd been there after the copper sulphate incident!"

"I-I'm alright. I-If we leave now I won't v-vomit."

"You three go, I want to talk to Professor Smythe for a moment." Blaine turned to watch them leave, flicking their access cards to open the sliding door, before returning his gaze to the professor. "I'd like to speak to your son. Any idea where I could find him?"

"Oh I wouldn't bother him. He's...sick." his plastered on smile faded as Blaine let out a snigger, aware that whatever Sebastian was suffering was in fact a hangover. "So how come Jeff almost hurled there? Every laboratory smells of antibacterial cleaning products. The only difference is..."

"The only difference is what?"

"Is what the cleaning products are used for. Your physics lab? You didn't use many chemicals over there did you? Here... let's just say, a specific substance here requires a lot of cleaning up, and the smell still lingers sometimes."

"Thanks. Anyway, I still need to talk to your son so... bye."

"Wait! I'll come with you! I need to take this to him." he held up a bottle, containing a translucent orange liquid. "It's his...antibiotic."

"I'll take it to him?"

"No! I'll... I want to see my son." And he walked off, ahead of Blaine.

...

"Sebastian?" Professor Smythe shouted.

"Come in." Sebastian replied with a yawn, opening the door. "Ah you brought it. Thanks."

"You know you shouldn't have gone out there last night. What with helping me make the... stuff, you're already exposed to it quite a bit and you don't want to end up like poor old Jeff Dalton do you? Good thing this stuff exists!" he shook the bottle of orange liquid in his right hand before handing it to his son, who took one swig before setting it on his bedside table. "Anyway, I better head back to the lab. That Blaine Anderson's just coming to speak with you, so be careful, okay Seb?"

"Sure dad."

...

"Sorry for bothering you," Blaine began to speak. "But I just wanted to speak to you. "Your dad said you were sick? Are you alright or...? Anyway, that's why I'm here- to speak to you about your dad actually."

"Oh..." he shifted his eyes towards the medicine bottle, and the gesture hadn't gone unnoticed. "Um yeah...Throat infection... Had it all week..."

"Yet you seemed fine last night."

"...This stuff?" the bottle was now in his hand. "Works like a dream."

"What is it?"

"Just em..." he tilted the bottle on it's side and looked at the label. "Penicillin. So what is it you wanted to ask me?"

"What is it your dad actually does here?"

"I'm... not permitted to say. Well... He teaches, but that's just a secondary job for him. He does quite a bit of research, but even I'm in the dark about that."

Sebastian coiled his fingers round the bottle, staring suspiciously at the orange substance inside of it while reading the label. Sebastian could only dream about being in the dark about his dad's research. He knew what it had caused. He dreaded staring Jeff in the face during classes or in corridors. He dreaded thinking about how it was his own flesh and blood that had turned Jeff into the reclusive little 'child' he'd been for so long. Still that terrified six year old boy, watching murder happen right before his eyes. Still that terrified six year old boy, feeling like the universe is coming to an end around him. But Jeff wasn't the only one. He and Sebastian? They weren't so different after all.

_Still that other terrified six year old boy, watching his dad's disturbing delight at his awful findings._

He breathed deeply through his nose, the medicine beginning to take it's effect.

_Still that other terrified six year old boy, who has felt more like a test subject than a child for the entirety of his existance._

It wasn't like his dad had given him the 'medicine' to help him from turning out like Jeff or anything. He'd been given it so that nobody else would find out.

_Still that other terrified six year old boy, who has spent so long watching evil taking place in front of his eyes, that it's all he's ever known. _

It wasn't like he was any better than his father. He'd done things most people would never dream of doing. Horrible things.

_Still that other terrified six year old boy, that's spent so long being fearful of the circumstances he's come from, that he's perfectly alright with inflicting terror into those around him._


	9. Mutts of Dalton:Access

**Because Klainelock should be real, I'm just gon' keep writing this fic until I run out of Conan Doyle stuff to base these on. Seriously though. I should/or someone else should write a fic where Blaine+Cooper are related to Anderson and they can't stand him... Aha:L Or write something where Kurt is Sherlock just to see how it would be different:L And I get the Blainelock in this isn't very Sherlock-y, but I want to make sure the Blaine characterization is still there:L But anyway... I should stop rambling and write eh?**

**Seriously though? Can we make Klainelock a thing? Like make it a tag on tumblr? Any of you lot got tumblr? If so, follow me... my tumblr is last-songieversing :)**

**Come join me in Klainelock laaaand! If you join me, we shall dance around in Klainelock headcanons, fanfics and things:D **

**And also? An explanation to part of the conclusion to 'Mutts of Dalton' will in an end authors note of one of the chapters.**

* * *

><p>You alright? You seem..." Kurt began to speak, noticing that Blaine hadn't uttered a word since he'd entered the dorm.<p>

"He's in deep thought." Cooper went on to state. "Doesn't like speaking. It distracts him. Weird? Oh I know! But I guess you're probably used to his quirks by now.

...

There was something. Something that would lead him to the conclusion of this case. The idea that a pack of wild mutant canines were pouncing around the grounds of Dalton didn't sit well with Blaine, so he'd figured that there must have been _something _else. What was it that had led him to take the case in the first place? Not the prospect of a trip to Dalton. Not his non-existent fascination with all things wild-life related.

It had been Jeff's choice of words.

_'They were the footprints of a gigantic mutt!'_

He'd questioned Jeff upon it, but with Jeff's resistance to answer the question, he thought nothing of it, and put it down to exaggerated word choice of little importance. He wished he hadn't. Failure to pick on up on something quickly equaled complete failure in his books. 'Mutt' was of importance. Great importance.

...

"Mutt..." Blaine mumbled under his breath. "Is it an anagram for something? Nope... Can't anagram it... Maybe it's plural? Nope. Nothing but Ms Tut..."

"Um Blaine?" Kurt tapped him on the shoulder. "You do know you're thinking aloud?"

"An acronym! Mutt is in acronym!"

Just as Blaine began to revel in his 'eureka' moment, his happiness was halted by Nick, in the middle of a frenzied ramble, practically rolling through their door, falling to the floor in exhaustion.

"It's Jeff!" he screamed, his voice broken and strained. "He's lost it! Really lost it! He just... Broke down into tears, and I was making sure he was okay... and he lashed out! He's... He's not Jeff... it's as if... As if he's gone in insane! We need to stop him before he does something stupid! Please! He's outside... over in the woods... And it's getting dark..."

"Kurt? I've got to head back to the lab, and possibly back to Sebastian's dorm to research something. Go with Nick? Talk Jeff out of whatever he's about to do." Blaine's oddly calm. "Coop? You go with him..."

"Why do I have to go? What if I can't stop him?" Kurt whispered, his voice panging with anxiety.

"Kurt, you're the most empathetic person I've ever met. You're good with people! Now go! I'll be there as fast as I can."

...

He was convinced the 'medicine' Mr Smythe had given his son wasn't the innocent 'antibiotic' they'd said it was. It couldn't be. There was no other explanation. It had to be something else - something suspicious. Pretending to be dropping off a flask of chicken noodle soup for the allegedly ill -although seemingly otherwise- Sebastian, he managed to smuggle the half full bottle into his trouser pocket right under the other man's gaze.

"Honestly Anderson," Sebastian smirked jokingly. "The number of times you've visited me today? I don't require your skills of deduction to figure out that you're aroused."

"Shut it _Smythe,_" he hissed, his fingers snaking round the bottle in his pocket. "Arrogant and big-headed? Not really my type."

"Just so you know? You're kind of my type. Smart is the new sexy, and you're... well... smarter than most people. Anyway, you've got your eyes on that Hummel dude don't you?"

"It's blatantly obvious isn't it? Anyway, I need to go."

"You need to go and... help Jeff?" Sebastian glanced out the window over to the woods.

...

It wasn't particularly difficult for Blaine to sneak into the laboratories. Heck, it wouldn't have been difficult for anyone to break in. Considering the controversies surrounding the place, the lack of security was kind of alarming, but anyway, to Blaine, it was was a good thing at that present moment. The laboratories were only occupied between ten in the monring and six in the evening, so it wasn't as if at seven, there'd be anyone else there sith him. He switched on a lamp in the laboratory he'd found Professor Smythe in earlier that day, before removing the bottle from his pocket.

Sniffing it precautiously, he winced back, the smell repulsing him slightly. His nose filling with the childhood smell of the medicine a doctor would prescribe you, his initial theories about some sort of science experiment were slowly distancing themself from being probable. After a bit of careful scientific investigation, the substance had identified itself as nothing more than a bottle of liquid penicillin that'd be used to treat common infections.

He turned to the computer on the desk. Professor Smythe's computer, clicking on a shortcut on the desktop mysteriously labelled as ''

**ACTTIVATION USER:  
>G-SMYTHE_1LT3.<strong>

**TRY PASSWORD:**

Blaine sat back, thinking for a moment, before typing; **M U T T. **

_**INCORRECT PASSWORD. 3 MORE ATTEMPTS.**_

__He breathed in deeply, before typing again; **M U T T S.**

**ACCESS PASSWORD:**

Knowing that it would be stupid for the second password to be the same as the first, Blaine looked around for any clues on what the password could be. Knowing that Professor Smythe was the only one to use the computer in that room, and that he must have been sitting in Blaine's exact position when he'd thought it up, he looked around. Family pictures were pinned up high on a chipboard above the desk ,out of close perspective, and only able to see if looking up. The password wasn't related to them then. His eyes fixated on the pictures of a dog in the middle of the board, at the perfect distance for it to be one of the first things he'd see. A golden retriever. He spun the chair round slightly, a gold watch coming into view, before realising that the frame of the board was golden in colour too.

Instinctively going to type 'Gold', he began to press his fingers against the keys, before stopping. A scientific man like Greg Smythe? He'd have been cleverer than that surely. The username he'd chosen Stuck out for a moment. _1LT3... _Could that mean one less than three? Which is two... So type gold twice? No. Professor Smythe's a man of chemistry. He pressed backspace, and typed again; **A U A U. **

**ACCESS GRANTED.**

And Blaine began to read.

_**M.U.T.T.S.**_

_Victor__**M**ontgomery.  
>Winston <strong>U<strong>re.  
>Daniel <strong>T<strong>hompson.  
>Dave <strong>T<strong>hompson.  
>Greg <strong>S<strong>mythe._

_'Mutts'.  
>Mutated infection, related to 'streptococcal infection' or 'strep'. Causes immune system to build up antibodies that attack part of the brain, causing specific, almost OCD like symptoms. Causes hallucinations of what the person is expecting to see, and obsessive behaviour surrounding it.<em>

_Created for medical research. Aborted in 1996 due to the extremities of the compulsive behavior. _

Yet underneath, for Blaine's eyes to see, was yet more research, and more disturbingly, a case study about Jeff.

* * *

><p><strong>Here's the little authors note. The thing about the strep? Well it's a thing I saw while my mum was watching an ep of Mystery Diagnosis where a kid started being really badly OCD about everything, and turns out it wasn't OCD, but strep or summat... Just a little variation on Houndsof Baskerville so yeah:) I do my research!:)<strong>


	10. Mutts of Dalton:Saved

**If it's not too much to ask, if you're reviewing could you please suggest which Sherlock Holmes to base the next story on? I'm swaying towards something like the episode 'The Great Game', or 'The Dying Detective' or 'The Final Problem', but Scandal in Bulgravia/Bohemia's also sticking out as it might be a good place to start integrating some Klaine into it. And if so, who'd you like to see as 'Irene Adler'? Santana? Quinn? Brittany? Heck I'll even write Sue as Irene Adler if you want. **

* * *

><p>Blaine winced, his chest tightening in disgust at what he was reading. Research. They'd infected the air with bacteria that could drive someone insane for <em>research! <em>Jeff had just about lost his mind and it was all because of stupid research! He regained himself to carefully piece together the entirety of the case. There was a picture stuck in between the paragraphs on the computer, displaying a group of people in labcoats wearing t-shirts with wolf-dog-things on them and the word 'MUTTS' written underneath. It made sense. It all made sense.

...

"I want to die! I don't want to live! I want to die!" Jeff's practically screaming, his neck strained so that you could see his veins and his entire body convulsing in terror. "I can't... I can't... I can't..."

"Jeff," Kurt sighed softly, but loud enough for Jeff who was standing higher on the hill to hear. "Take deep breaths. It's fine. It's all fine."

"Please Jeff! Just come back inside!" Nick shouted, feeling the humidity of the air hit against his neck.

It's dark. Too dark. Howling. Jeff could hear _howling. _And not just little domestic dog whimpers. _Actual _howling, like a wolf, but louder. He screamed a grumble of incomprehensible cries, his teeth chattering with fear. He'd meant what he said. He'd much rather die than face the inescapable terror that loomed upon him. He felt helpless. Completely and utterly helpless. The dog was staring at him, it's glowing eyes piercing into his. He's pretty sure that if it moves even a fraction towards him, he's not going to be able to hold back from projectively hurling the contents of his stomach.

"Jeff. There's no dog." Blaine spoke quietly, only just audible for him to hear. "There never has been."

"But I've seen it! You've seen it! Trent's seen it! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy!" he breathed out without stopping.

"I know you aren't, Jeff. I know you aren't. Just please listen to me."

"I'm n-not crazy... I'm not..." he sobbed.

"You see the dog, because it's what you're expecting to see. Something happened here when you were six, and because you were young, you'd associated whatever it was with this 'mutt'. Something attacked your father, but it sure as hell wasn't a dog. It wasn't something... but instead, someone, and I think I have a pretty good idea about who it was."

"W-w-who?"

"Let me explain first. See in the air here? There's manufactured bacteria. Makes you feel nauseous doesn't it? Just like it made you feel nauseous when you could smell traces of it in the laboratory. Can I ask, when was the last time you had a sore throat?"

"Not since...before my dad died."

"The bacteria in the air here? It's basically what causes strep throat, but with some minor adjustments. It causes the antibodies to attack the brain, causing compulsive obsessions and hallucinations. I'm no expert in this field, so I have no idea about how it does this, but that's what happened. It's all for research. Medical research. Research that should've finished fifteen years ago, but it's been carried on."

"Who by?"

"Professor Smythe, and I have a pretty good feeling that he's the man who attacked your father. The people who were in charge of the research often wore t-shirts with **M.U.T.T.S **on them, with a picture of some mutated canine thing on it. At six years old you saw this when first infected by the bacteria, and because you were so young, you immediately began to associate here with that mutt. You expected to see it every time you came here, so you did. I know the access code for Professor's data, so handing him into the police shouldn't be the problem."

"H-How do we...like... cure ourselves?"

"Now listen Jeff... I have no idea how you'll be affected long term by this. It's likely you'll still be of nervous nature... but we should all head over to the doctor's office on the other side of campus and get some antibiotics. It's the only way we can make sure this hallucination never happens again."

Jeff cautiously walked down the hill, shaking as he staggered over to Nick.

"You alright?" Nick smiled gently, remaining calm for his friend although inside he was a little freaked out by it all.

"For once?" Jeff grinned in an almost out of character mannerism. "I'm actually doing okay."

"Blaine?" a smile spread across Kurt's face. "Well done. You were brilliant."

"Thanks." Blaine reciprocated the smile.

"Oi you two? Quit making love with your eyes and come inside!" Nick smirked, running forward slightly. "You can't keep denying to us that you're not a couple."

"We're not a couple!" Kurt laughed.

"But you will be. It's kind of... obvious." Jeff ran forward towards Nick.

"You have no right to talk. If we didn't know you two, we'd think you were an item." Blaine started walking back towards Dalton. "I'm half expecting to find wedding invitations sitting on our doorstep when we get back to the apartment."

...

"It was..." Cooper- who clutched his cigarette inbetween his fingers- sighed to Blaine as he and Kurt stood by Jeff's car, waiting to get a ride home. "Nice to see you."

"Back at you." Blaine faked a cough as Cooper exhaled a puff of white smoke. "But would you please- before I need a lung transplant or something- put that damn thing out?"

"Now Blaine, this is an addiction. It's not as if I'm smoking forty a day or something! Two or three at max."

"It's not you I'm concerned about."

"Thanks for the concern! Now GO!"


	11. Scandal in Lima:Complicated

**So here's the first chapter of 'Scandal In Lima', where it's basically a bit of a heart-to-heart between Kurt+Blaine. I've decided Scandal in Bohemia/Bulgravia is the best to develop the Klaine relationship in this...YAY:) Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>here's always a kid in your high school classes who-despite their resistance to study-still manages to come out top. Unlike you, they don't have to sit sifting through quote upon quote just to scrape a mediocre pass in English, or attend all the supported study periods that are offered just to make sure they're caught up. Everything just always come easy to them. Without working hard, they always manage to do well because they are <em>smart <em>and _clever _and _geniuses. _Not one person seems to compare with their massive intellect.

That's exactly how Kurt felt around Blaine sometimes. A shadow of Blaine's fantastic mind. It wasn't as if Kurt assumed that life came easily to Blaine in anyway or that he wasn't hard working, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. Unlike Kurt's, Blaine's life hadn't been dominated by his sexual orientation- in fact, Blaine's life was seemingly free from it.

"Can I just ask?" Kurt plucked up the courage one morning. "I'm not trying to invade your privacy or anything... I just want you to tell me."

"What is it?" Blaine looked up from his book- he'd opted to read a bit of Shakespeare on this particular day- and sighed.

"And don't give me a cryptic answer or try to brush it off. I just want you, for once, to answer me like any normal person would."

"Ask me the question."

"Are you... gay? or straight? or what?"

"Why should it even matter Kurt? Why is love and romance and all that crap all people care about? And why should I put a label on myself? I'm _human,_ Kurt. And if that's to complicated for you to comprehend? Then you're talking to the wrong person. That's what I am. _Complicated. _I think things in a complicated way. I can cope with things being complicated. I come from a complicated background..."

"You never talk about that. Your background I mean."

"Should I feel compelled to?"

"I've talked about mine. You're my friend Blaine, excuse me for wanting to actually know you as opposed to only being in your acquaintance."

"Fine." Blaine breathed in deeply, his arms coiling around his chest so that he was almost hugging himself. "It's lot like I'm filled with angst over my childhood or anything. I don't if that's what you're expecting or something, but you're sure as well not going to have me crying into your shoulder or anything."

"Just talk Blaine."

"Well... my dad's extremely religious... Like... you know the type? Insisting upon catholic schools for me and Cooper. Dragging us to church no matter what. I'm not even joking. This woman's hat recieved... let's just say... a new pattern because my dad had pulled Cooper from his bed when he was recovering from food poisoning. But anyway... he's the type... you wouldn't particularly like."

"So he's a homophobe?"

"Well, yeah. It's not even because he's religious or anything. He's just... He's not open. He likes rules. Rules and regulations and order and control. So anyway, my dad doesn't like people who are different, so you can probably guess he wasn't too fond of me. To him I was more 'smart-ass' than 'smart'. And..." Blaine stopped for a moment, for a second looking slightly vulnerable."

"What is it?"

"You asked me... I... I think... I like guys. Well... I don't know. I like... one at least. It's not as if the ladies _or _the guys were lining up to date me or anything, being a complete outcast at high school."

"One? Who Blaine? God I sound like a freshman girl trying to match-make her friends."

"I c-can't..." he stutters, standing up and contemplating whether to leave the room or not. "Kurt please... I can't..."

"It's alright Blaine. If it's a... touchy subject, you don't need to talk about it. It's fine." Kurt smiled calmly.

"I'll continue... So anyway, my dad always sort of hated me and my mum just stayed out of it all. It wasn't like my dad was cruel to me or anything... It was just the _looks _he'd give me. Look, it's not as if I'm scarred by my past because I have no reason to be. I'm just... apathetic about it all."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, the awkwardness of the foreign vulnerability becoming apparent. The room filled with the noise of the telephone, thankfully breaking the silence that neither of them were revelling in.

"Blaine?" it was Cooper. "I've kind of found you a case."

"What do you mean by 'kind of'?" Blaine queried.

"Well there's no dead body or anything, but my client asked for you specifically."

"Your client? Since when do you have _clients_?

"It's all in the text I sent you. Did you get my text? And in case you are forgetting, I'm part of this country's government."

"Probably."

"Why didn't you text me back?"

"Because my cell phone's in the other room and I'm not bothering to get up and go get it when you can just explain to me while I'm on the phone."

"Why do you always have to be difficult?"

"Just tell me Coop."

"Fine. There are photos in existence of my client... With a particular woman. You'll probably have heard of her... Santana Lopez?"

"No idea who she is."

"Honestly Blaine, have you been living under a rock for the past couple of months? She's been involved in at least three of the latest political scandals..."

"I don't read the news too often."

"Clearly. So anyway, she's in possession of the photos of her and my client. Retrieve them for me?"


	12. Scandal in Lima:Code

"So you're telling me you have no idea who Santana Lopez is?" Kurt queried towards Blaine as they sat in the back of the taxi on their way to the other side of Lima. "She's like... never out of the news."

"Unlike most, I don't care for celebrity scandal." Blaine sighed, staring out of the window. "It's stupid. Why would I want to take up space in my brain with trivial information?"

"Oh so I'm stupid then am I, Blaine? For caring about what's going on in the world? For being knowledgeable in things other than myself and science? That's your problem. Everything has to have a purpose for you. Everything needs to be _for _something, as opposed to just being something for the sake of it. When you look at that tree over there, what do you see?"

"A tree."

"Exactly my point."

"But it's just a tree. There's no significance!"

"It's not just a tree. Look at it. It's swirls of emerald and khaki and deep green, on a trunk of maroon. It's a work of natural beauty, respiring and photosynthesising. It's not just a tree Blaine. It's life in front of your eyes. What is it with you today? You seem... down."

"Well you would be too, if your flatmate had been questioning you about things you don't want to talk about... Don't want to even think about..."

...

Red. Deep dark red. Like blood, but slightly more disgustingly beautiful. It tinted her lips as she applied the make up. She'd recieved the text from Cooper Anderson, alerting her that his brother would be paying a visit, before deciding she was going to dress up for her new visitor. She'd heard of little Blaine Anderson- or 'The Hobbit' as she'd dubbed him- due to many of her clients being in the police force, having expressed their hatred for the little 'freak'. She knew exactly why he was coming. That poor little Brittany girl, coming from that rich, respected family, just didn't want those kinds of pictures being released in the press, so they'd decided to send clever little hobbit to retrieve them. She was adamant that he wouldn't get them though, knowing that she was intelligent enough to possibly outwit probably the smartest man she'd ever meet.

...

"We need a disguise... So she lets us in..." Blaine sighed, tapping his chin as they stood in the middle of a street in Lima. "And don't suggest we dress up in suits and beards and go around saying 'Pip Pip a Doodly Doo' like Drake and Josh did..."

"So you can't name the president, but you can quote a kids tv show?" Kurt laughed.

"Anywhere around here where we could buy card?" he buttoned up his black shirt. "Just plain white card?"

"I've got a business card in my wallet? The back of it doesn't have anything on it? Also, when we get inside there you'll have to set of the fire alarm."

"Perfect." he snatched it, ripped it in half and placed it underneath his shirt collar. "For once, I have a reason to be thankful for my dad's lecturing. A little bit of knowledge makes for a very effective disguise."

"You make quite a convincing vicar."

"You're also going to have to punch me... again."

"Oh g-god I can't!"

"Kurt? Just punch me. We need an excuse to get into Santana's house, and there's nothing better than a babbling vicar who's just been beaten up."

"When I... punched you during our first case together... I barely know you. I d-don't want to be responsible for hurting you now I care about you!"

"Fine then, I'll just have to punch myself."

...

"You know, all you needed was a superficial little cut on your cheek. You didn't need to almost knock yourself out and give yourself a black eye in the process." Kurt laughed half heartedly, as a dizzy Blaine stumbled to sit on the kerb. "You're looking a little of balance there. Should we head home?"

"G-god no Kurt..." Blaine half slurred. "I'm fine. J-just... getting into character. Can't be a babbling injured vicar without babbling and well... being injured."

Blaine stood up, steadying himself as he walked towards the large black door to Santana's house. The house was huge, reminding Blaine of the similar house he'd grown up in. Tall. Decorative. Like a show-home, as opposed to a family home. Kurt tapped the door, readying himself to lie to the woman.

"H-h-he..." Blaine faked being out of breath, forging a shiver. "He attacked me... Someone a-a-attacked me."

"I witnessed it all." Kurt sighed.

"Would you like me to phone the police?" Santana smirked, stifling a laugh.

"Would you please? Thank you! Thank you! You are most kind! C-could we wait here? Until the police come? I d-don't want to g-get attacked again."

"Of course."

"Thank you! You are such a blessed person!"

...

Blaine sat down on the large sofa in the living area, watching as Santana brushed through the room flawlessly, not once bashing against any of the precious ornaments littered around the cabinets. He stared at her, his eyes fixated on her make up painted face, trying to read her. Nothing. No matter how many times he scanned the woman, his skills for deduction never seemed to act as aid to him. He looked back at Kurt, taking in his appearance, still able to tell the events of Kurt's previous day from the stain on his cardigan.

"Blaine Anderson." Santana finally broke the silence, stepping slowly towards Blaine and removing the white piece of card from his collar. "Well first, I know you're not a vicar. And second, I know you're here for the pictures but there's no way in hell that I'm giving them to you."

"I erm... need the bathroom. Could you tell me where it is?" Kurt piped up.

"Go upstairs. It's the third door on the left. Oh wait! I think the door's locked... The code is 3274."

"Thank you...Wait, there's a code for the bathroom?"

Now that he was standing in the hall, he scoped through the room until he found the round cylinder, clinging to the wall in the far corner of the room. He fumbled with it, working out how to set off the alarm. The loud sound rung out throughout the entire house, including the room Blaine and Santana were in. Santana's eyes flickered, directing towards the mirror on the wall.

"In the time of a fire, a person would look towards the most important posession in the room. In a mother's case, it would be a child... Yet you're looking towards this mirror..." Blaine placed his hand underneath the mantelpiece, which caused for the mirror to lift up, revealing the locked safe on the wall. "I really hope there's not a baby in here Santana..."

"Too bad you don't know the code. Maybe I've told you already... but did you listen? Of course you did. You're Blaine Anderson. Nothing gets past you." Santana smirked, her red lips spreading out into an almost devillish smile.

...

"OI!" the british accent bellowed down the hallway Kurt was in, as the gunshot fired towards the fire alarm, smashing it into millions of piecies. "Get back in there and keep your trap shut!"

"W-w-wait s-s-stop..." Kurt struggled as the forced him back into the room at gunpoint by the man and two other males of similar large stature.

"I told you the code Blaine. I know you know it!" Santana taunted.

"Put your hands above your head and get on the floor!" the man shouted, before pointing at Blaine. "You! Unlock that safe."

"I don't know the code." Blaine stated calmly, his hands perfectly still and absent from even the slightest quiver.

"You heard her! She told you it! Fine then... Dan? Point your gun towards the camp guy and if this guy doesn't punch in those numbers within the next five seconds, shoot him."

"5..."

"I don't know the code!" Blaine lashed out, watching as Kurt shivered underneath the hunk of black plastic."

"4..."

"I don't know the freaking code!" Kurt was two shades paler than normal."

"3..."

"Okay! I know it..." he breathed in calmly, tapping in the numbers; three, two, seven and four.

The safe flipped open, forcing Blaine down onto the floor as he realised it was a trap. Kurt and Santana were- thankfully- still on the floor, and had avoided the six bullets that had been fired from the trap. One of the bullets lodged itself into the Scottish man's shoulder, causing him to fall back and wince in pain. Another two targetted the other men, who ducked down and crashed their heads together, knocking them out completely. Blaine grabbed the camera phone from the safe, rushing upto the dark, dangerous looking room a few doors down. Kurt pulled himself together, still shaky from being threatened at gun point and bolted out of the house, convinced that he was about to vomit with anxiety.

Clap. _Pause. _Clap. _Pause. _Clap.

"Well done Hobbit." Santana stopped her sarcastic clapping and folded her arms. "You're quite the brainbox."

"Why thank y-..." a sudden dizziness- possibly even nausea too- passed over Blaine as he felt something- a needle probably- penetrate the skin on his arm. "What is th-... that?"

"Oh don't worry. I use this on loads of my... friends." she prised the phone from Blaine's hand, before crashing her hand against Blaine's already bruised face.

Kurt, who- after a bout of dry retching over by a tree and a bit of fresh air- had finally composed himself enough to re-enter the house, entered the room, taking notice of Blaine lying on the floor.

"What did you do to him?" he stood back.

"He'll sleep for a while. Might run a temperature for a bit, depending on how the drug affects his system. But don't worry, he'll be fine... provided he doesn't choke on his own vomit or anything."


	13. Scandal in Lima:Caring

**This chapter shall be hopefully be so Klaine-y that you just want to watch Original Song and The First Time over and over again just for them to be cute again:')**

KURT...Kurt..." Blaine slurred in a barely audible croak, lifting himself from his bed in an attempt to stand up, failing as he thudded back down onto the matress.

_Red. _That's all he could see. Thick dark red. Like blood, but not quite blood. Red lips. That's what he could see. Perfectly curved as they kissed his bruised cheek, whispering something that only he would be able to hear. As pleasant the sight was, it was scaring him slightly, sending him somewhere between a pit of wallowing anxiety and a place where all of his insecurities began to dislodge. He felt safe, but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified.

"K-Kurt..." he forced his vocal chords to co-operate, the call for help finally being heard just as he rolled onto the floor.

"Blaine? What are you doing on the floor?" Kurt stifled a laugh.

"K-kurt... I f-feel weird. What am I d-d-doing here? Where's the woman? The red woman..."

"I called Cooper to pick us up, because well... You've been unconcious for the last few hours. And no wonder you're feeling weird..." Kurt clutched Blaine's arm for a moment, feeling his warmth. "You're burning up. The woman- or Santana I should say- drugged you and punched you right where you punched yourself. I wouldn't be surprised if you've got a concussion too..."

"K-Kurt. W-we need to s-solve the case..." Blaine's voice was quieter as tiredness began to take over. "The pictures Kurt! The pictures!"

"Sorry Blaine, but you're not in any fit state to go crime solving. Cooper's been looking into the Scottish man who was there. He was some person high up on the British government, closely related to the girl with Santana in the pictures apparently."

"K-Kurt."

"Yes Blaine?"

"Stay here with me? At least until I fall back asleep? I feel... really odd. I don't want to be alone. Please?"

"Of course! Or we could go watch a DVD or something in the living room?"

"C-could we? M-maybe you could introduce me to one of your beloved musicals?"

"Why of course! Grease, West Side Story or Cats?"

"Erm... West Side Story?"

...

Blaine curled up on the sofa, his eyes practically glued to the television as he sipped fervently at the cup of coffee he clutched tightly in his hand. Kurt couldn't help but notice the slight shiver that occured in Blaine's body, but ignored it as he sipped on his own drink, taking a seat beside him. The phone began to ring, so Kurt paused the film mid-Jet-song to answer it.

"Hey Kurt. It's Cooper." Kurt heard him sigh through the phone. "How's Blaine doing?"

"He's... not himself." Kurt walked through to the kitchen.

"So he's awake then?"

"Only woke up twenty minutes ago."

"Don't let him go out on any cases okay? No matter how much he begs or pleads. Just... make sure he's alright okay?"

...

"Coop's worried." Kurt clenched his teeth as he turned towards Blaine. "And no wonder. You were pretty out of it a few hours ago when he came to pick us up."

"I-I'm sorry." Blaine's voice hitched slightly, sounding nasally and making him sound as if he was about to start crying.

"Hey it's fine... You're fine..." Kurt murmured, gently stroking his finger against the back of Blaine's hand. "You're just not yourself that's all."

"It's just that, I don't even care today. I don't care that you're seeing me as the vulnerable little kid I feel like sometimes. I don't care that I'm close to becoming a huge sobbing mess in a minute. I don't care that I can't even think properly right now. I just don't care..."

"I'm starting to miss sarcastic Blaine right about now! Is he in there?"

"Nope. I'm sorry, but I'm just Blaine today."

"Oh I don't know if I like 'Just Blaine' as much..."

"Look who's being sarcastic now!"

"Who was the guy?" Kurt spoke up all of a sudden.

"What guy?"

"The one guy you said you liked? This morning?"

"Oh. That guy."

"And that guy is?"

"Please take this seriously Kurt. Don't laugh when I tell you. Just... take it in." Blaine stared at him for a second, his hand quivering as it edged closer towards Kurt's face.

His palm held onto Kurt's face just above his chin as they moved closer together. It all seemed to be happening slowly, as if it took hours just for their lips to touch, although it was over in a couple of seconds. Blaine smiled as he pulled away for a moment, before continuing with the kiss. This was who Blaine was. This was who Blaine wanted to be. While caring had never been an advantage to him, the same thing applied to the apathy he'd harboured for so long. Why would he give up caring for both the good and bad things in life, when the good things felt that great? He was flying. _Flying. _God he hated metaphors, but he honestly felt like his body was drifting somewhere within time and space, where the pull of gravity was no longer a hindrance. His apathy had been pointless. A stupid faked characteristic to make him seem more mysterious. An idiotic thing to prevent himself from vulnerability. He couldn't not care. He couldn't be afraid of being vulnerable to the point where caring wasn't an option. He needed to care. For moments like this to happen, he needed to care like a plant needs sunlight to grow.

Kurt stood back as Blaine pulled away, not sure what to think. He could barely even remember the blur of the kiss even though it'd happened just seconds ago. He wasn't sure why, but he smiled impulsively, as if he had a reason to smile- and he did. Blaine liked him. Blaine cared about him. Blaine had chosen to like him over all of the other people he'd ever met.

"It's me?" he bit his lip, his teeth still showing as he grinned.

"Of course it's you, stupid!" Blaine's lips spread out into an even bigger smile than Kurt's.

Caring didn't feel good.

Caring felt _bloody fantastic. _

* * *

><p><strong>Oh they kissed, holy sh*t, cue the confetti make a gif, since introducing Darren Criss they've been promising just this:')<strong>


	14. Scandal in Lima:Dead

**So tempted to write a Wholock!Klaine fic once I've finished this, with Kurt as The Doctor and Blaine as Sherlock... ahah:D**

**Can we make Klainelock a real thing though? PLEASE.**

* * *

><p>Why me?" Kurt's teeth were still showing, as he grinned in Blaine's direction. "You're so flippant and apathetic around everyone else- what's the difference with me?"<p>

"You're different. Everyone else who has met me needed something from me. My dad needed me to reassure his religion. My brother needs me to reassure himself that he's the normal one. The boys from Dalton needed my intelligence..." Blaine clenched his teeth, breathing out slowly. "You're nothing like them. Everyone treats me like I'm some sort of _alien-_ either they make me into a pariah, or a freak, or they glorify me like some sort of hero. You... You treat me like I'm human- because that's all I am. Human. Well... I'm a pretty extraordinary human if I say so myself... But so are you."

"I'm not _extraordinary._"

"Well you are to me."

"It's your birthday tomorrow." Kurt stated all of a sudden.

"Don't remind me." Blaine laughed gently.

"Oh come on and stop being bitter! We've got people coming over, just for a bit of dinner. It's not as if we're going to dangle you out the window screaming 'It's Blaine's birthday!' loud enough for the whole of Ohio to hear."

"So who's all coming?"

"Cooper, Nick, Jeff, possibly Sebastian and Mercedes might come depending on how Sam is. Oh and Puck and Rachel said they might pop in for a bit if they can."

"Any news on how he's been?"

"He's just not been... _himself _since his dad's death. I get that he's Mercedes' husband, but I don't see how she manages to cope. He's like... a little kid, from what she's said on the phone. Anyway, you better head to bed and sleep off whatever Santana drugged you with."

"But I'm not tired."

"Then take one of my DVDs and go and watch it in your room. I still need to wrap your presents for tomorrow."

"Alright." Blaine glanced at the DVD cabinet, before reaching lazily for the closest box to him. "I'll just take this."

"Doctor Who? Really? Surely a whole show based around the impossible act of time travel would bother you?"

"Actually, I don't mind it. Caught five minutes of this show once. The guy wears a bowtie, and thinks bowties are cool... Therefore, he's pretty damn cool."

...

"Happy Birthday to you!" Jeff and Nick were stood at Kurt and Blaine's door, clutching messily wrapped presents in their arms as they sung, before Jeff began to speak. "Sebastian and some of the other Dalton guys are coming in a bit. Oh, and Cooper will be late. His fiance found out about the one night stand in Michigan, so he's... occupied."

"Kurt!" Blaine shouted from the door. "Niff are here!"

"Heard from Kurt you were drugged up yesterday. You alright?" Nick smiled as the two of them stepped into the house.

"I'm... grand." he smiled over in Kurt's direction. "Kurt? Is Mercedes coming?"

"Yeah, and Sam's coming too. It's one of his good days!"

"Oh hello freak." Rachel and Puck appeared at the door just before Blaine was about to close it. "And freak's friends!"

"Happy birthday." Puck smiled, tapping Rachel on the shoulder and telling her to behave herself.

...

Blaine assumed that Sebastian wasn't coming when he realised that everyone else-even Cooper- had already arrived. An hour later than expected, the loud knock at the door had come as a surprise. There stood Sebastian at their door, looking slightly out of place wearing jeans and a shirt instead of his Dalton blazer. Behind him stood Trent and Thad, who-due to their insuperior height- looked like his minions.

...

"How's Sam?" Kurt whispered to Mercedes as he took a sip of wine.

"He's doing alright I guess." she breathed out slowly. "Better than usual."

"What's actually being happening?"

"We're not actually sure. His doctor has been saying it's some sort of psychotic breakdown or an anxiety problem... but sometimes Sam just looks at me, and it's as if he doesn't even know who I am."

...

"Blaine." Sebastian spoke in a hushed tone just after Blaine had opened most of his presents. "Could I speak to you for a second... In private?

"Of course." Blaine sat his drink down onto the coffee table, heading through to the hall. "So what is it you want?"

The little box in Sebastian's hand sat there, staring at him. It was perfectly wrapped, the bright red wrapping paper encasing what was inside it with an usual air of elegance. Blaine took a deep breath in as a strong scent of perfume filled his nostrils. He noticed the darker red mark on the paper, in the shape of a pair of lips. _Santana._

"It's not from me." Sebastian smirked. "But I think you've already caught onto that."

"How did you get this?" Blaine held up the box in his right hand.

"Santana's a 'friend' of mine. She asked me to give this to you."

Blaine slowly unwrapped the paper, seperating the lid from the box to reveal the camera phone in a bed of shiny red silk.

"Is everything okay?" Cooper peered his head in, a lit cigarette perched in the hand he was holding the door with.

"Coop." Blaine fixated his eyes on the phone. "Could you please put that bloomin' cigarette out?"

"My lungs are my lungs Blaine. I'll infect them if I want to infect them."

"I'm more worried about my lungs thanks."

"Whose phone is that?"

Blaine stayed silent for a moment, his eyes still focused on the shiny touch screen.

"Santana Lopez will be found tonight." he stated. "Dead."


	15. Scandal in Lima:Apathy

**Sorry about the delay in updating... I had written the first bit of this chapter twice, but it just didn't fit, so I've had to rewrite it all... **

* * *

><p>By the slight tint of her skin, and the dark red lips, curving in an unsettling position of beauty, Blaine could quickly identify that the body- which lay sprawled out on a slab within the morgue- was most definitely Santana Lopez. Despite his extreme tolerance for all things gruesome, even Blaine couldn't help but wince at the mangled lacerations that littered the face in a controlled chaos. The wounds were clean. Too clean. As if they'd been purposefully executed to make them look like they were random, yet under Blaine's observational eye, he noticed a pattern in the muddle, which made him come to the conclusion that the way Santana's face had been cut was almost definitely deliberate.<p>

"Blaine?" Cooper looked over to his brother, looking concerned as Blaine's face contorted into a look of sadness. "Is that her?"

"It's..." Blaine took a second to swallow. "It's Santana."

"Are you sure?"

"It's definitely Santana..."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Perfectly fine..." Blaine stared through the window of the room, his eyes fixating on the distraught family leaving one of the rooms. "Look at them. _Caring. _Caring should be a good thing... but it's been nothing but a disadvantage to me."

"Your job comes with a certain level of emotional detachment. Caring too much would be a hindrance."

"But I've always been like this Cooper... Since I was a kid, I've always been heartless." Blaine eventually says once they leave the building.

"You may be flippant at times, but you're certainly not heartless. I've seen the way you look at Kurt. You do care, you're just picky about what you care about." Cooper pulled a box of cigarrettes from his pocket, pulling out two of them and balancing them between his fingers. "Take one. It's your birthday. Just take one."

"Coop..." he began to protest, but took the white and brown stick anyway, letting Cooper light it.

"How'd you know we'd find Santana dead tonight?"

"The phone. It was her protection... and she sent it to me for safe keeping. It's not just the photos on the phone... It's files and other things... but it's locked."

"Why does Santana need protection?"

"She's involved in numerous political government things. If the wrong person gets hold of that information, it's not just her that'd be affected. The country could go into meltdown."

...

_We're on our way back. Sorry we had to leave. It was an emergency... Don't let Blaine out of your sight, even if you've got plans. He needs you tonight. -Coop._

Kurt clenched his phone between his hands, staring at the barely eaten spread of food sitting on the coffee table. It had been two hours, and only now had he heard from them. Everyone except Mercedes and Sam had left now, and they had plans to go over to Mercedes and Sam's house for a couple of drinks."

"Did Blaine just text you?" Mercedes asked.

"Cooper. They're on their way back."

"Are you okay?"

"Just annoyed. We've made plans, and now Cooper's trying to tell me to stay in because Blaine 'needs' me."

After minutes of silence, the door creaked open, and in walked Blaine, his face ablank as he sat on the opposite side of the room.

"Blaine?" Kurt looked over at him. "What happened?"

"Santana's dead." he glared at the floor.

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Fine. I'm fine."

...

The bow of the violin crashed against the strings, as Blaine played a long note. Kurt looked up, not recognizing the dreary tune pouring out of the instrument.

"Are you composing?" Kurt smiled gently.

"Helps me to think." he stared down at the ground, glaring into nothingness.

"I'm making lunch, do you want anything?"

"Nope."

"You didn't have breakfast either."

"I'm thinking Kurt."

"Thinking about what?"

"I've still got a case. I still have to think in order to solve it, so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep quiet..."

"Blaine..."

"Please Kurt. Just... Leave me?"

"So you kiss me and tell me you like me and now, you're not even wanting to talk to me! Blaine, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine! Perfectly fine!"

"Is it Santana? You care. I may not be as observant as you, but I know you care! You most definitely care!"

"Kurt please..."

"And what if it was me who'd died Blaine? Would you still care? Or would you not be bothered because I'm not your intellectual equal?"

"Don't say that! Of course I'd care!"

"You're apathetic about everything else." Kurt stared down at Blaine, who seemed to look smaller and small as as the argument progressed. "What's so different about me?"

"You know that I care, even if I don't show it. To the rest of the world I'm just another cold, heartless man who throws his life away over-analyzing strangers and obsessing over dead bodies, but to you... You know that I care. You can see it!"

"But I don't see you caring! You continue this flippant facade with everyone apart from me."

"It's because I care about you Kurt. I care about what you think of me and how you see me. I care about how you feel and what you're doing. And I need you Kurt. I need you more than anyone else on the entire planet. I don't why... but I need you."


	16. Scandal in Lima:Alive

_There's a surprise waiting for you in the warehouse round the corner from your flat. Don't bring your hobbit friend. _

_..._

Kurt's fist tightened as he read the text, trying to figure out who it could be from. He took a quick glance over at Blaine, who lay fast asleep on the sofa with his guitar sitting in the space beside him, and grabbed his coat. He came to the conclusion that it must've been Sebastian, due to the snarky tone of the text, but something about the way it was written made him think that the impossible was about to happen.

...

He stood in the empty warehouse, breathing heavily as the silence swam around him; taunting him with the absense of even white noise as it creeped up towards him, it's silent breaths spiraling around his ear canals.

"Kurt." a woman's voice muddled into the silence, flipping Kurt's stomach in the process.

"S-S-Santana?" Kurt squinted, watching as the woman stepped towards him, still mantaining the elegant air of superiority she had possessed all those weeks before her 'death'.

"Don't look so surprised." she smiled, revealing a set of white teeth, which contrasted with the dark red shade of her lipstick.

"But you're...dead."

"But..." she placed her index and middle fingers onto her wrist, smirking with an air of arrogance as she looked up at Kurt again. "I've got a pulse."

"Tell him." Kurt stared at her, not once averting his eyes as she glared back. "Tell Blaine you're alive!"

"And why would I do that?"

"I don't understand why, but he cares. He barely eats... He hardly sleeps... He composes sad music..." he continued to stare. "But then again he's Blaine. He does all of those things anyway."

"I can't tell him Kurt. Not... Not yet. If I tell him, someone will find out. And if someone finds out... I'll die for real."

"And why can you tell me?"

"The hobbit trusts you, and he's not the kind to trust people easily, so you must be pretty damn trustworthy." Santana's smile dropped for a moment. "You and Blaine make a nice couple."

"We're not a cou-"

"You are. You definitely are. Don't worry, I'm not homophobic. It doesn't bother me."

"How did you know Blaine and I are gay?"

"Because I am too... And the quality of my gay-dar is miles above most."

"Santana?" Kurt raised his eyebrow. "What would happen if someone got hold of the information on that phone."

"I'd be sentenced to death or something. There's things that the government want to keep quiet about and because I've... spent time with a lot of those kinds of people. I've managed to aqcuire some knowledge about these... issues. They were going to spill everything they knew about me to some tabloid newspaper and turn it into a huge scandal as revenge for me finding out, but I used my knowledge as blackmail. If the wrong person gets hold of that phone I'm doomed."

"Are the things they were going to tell the newspaper really that bad?"

"I've been responsible for the deaths of people, Kurt. Innocent people."

"Santana..." Kurt took a step back.

"I didn't mean to Kurt." She stared at him, watching him flinch with a new sensation of fear. "I promise you. I had to! It was for my protection!"

"So you value your life above all others? Is your safety the most important thing on this earth?"

"You have no idea, Kurt! It wouldn't just mean prison! The people who are after the phone... They're corrupt. So corrupt, that if I spill the beans on any of the witheld information, they'll tear me down and send me to the slaughter."

"If... If Blaine was to give the phone to his brother- Cooper Anderson-... What would happen?"

"He's... He'd... The government are paranoid. They'd assume that I'd told someone. I'd... I'd die. Cooper would be accused of corruption because they'd think I told him...The girl in the pictures you were sent to find? She's one of their daughters... And she's the love of my life. Her father is extremely high up within the government and he's one of those christian homophobic types, and when he heard about the photos... He kicked his own daughter out of the house. If any of the information gets out, the papers will find out about the girl, and her life will be ripped to shreds. Her dad's so scared about what people would think if they knew his daughter was gay that he'd lock her away from the world to hide it. It's not just me that this will affect! Your friend's brother! The love of my life! Blaine! You! Everyone involved is at risk if I'm found, and my phone is hacked into."

"What's the code?" Kurt asked calmly. "For the phone..."

"NO!"

...

Blaine stared through the cracked window of the warehouse, having heard every single word of the conversation. She was alive. _Santana Lopez was alive. _He staggered backwards, his hands shaking with a burst of foreign adrenaline. His breathing hitched with surprise as his brain flipped and turned and tumbled, trying to figure out how the woman on the slab couldn't have been Santana, and how it was most definitely Santana standing across from Kurt in the abandoned warehouse, and how the case had just got five million times more interesting to when Cooper had first told him about it.

Santana Lopez was not dead. She was alive. _She was alive..._


	17. Scandal in Lima:Guilt

**I should probably mention I've started to write a Wholock!Klaine fanfic, with five chapters posted, if you're interested in that:) It's called 'Opposites Attract' :D**

* * *

><p>Where were you?" Blaine- who had made sure to arrive home earlier than Kurt, so he could play along with the 'little white lies'- smirked in Kurt's direction."<p>

"Shops." Kurt blurted almost too quickly, widening the smirk that spread across Blaine's face. "We ran out of milk."

"Where's the milk then?"

Kurt stared at the floor, almost laughing at his mistake. Blaine wasn't stupid. He knew _something. _What that something was, Kurt didn't know, but there was no doubt that Blaine had cottoned on to at least part of what was going on.

"Shop was closed."

"You don't need to lie to me you know." Blaine's tone darkened suddenly. "I hate it when people lie to me."

Blaine's eyes were like a crossbow, shooting the arrow of realisation straight into Kurt's heart. The uneasy glint of his pupils aimed towards him, penetrating his porcelain skin. Kurt sensed his friend's glare, creeping up towards him, and bowed his head, admitting his defeat.

"I'm sorry okay?" Kurt sighed, his tone collapsing into a mumble of relisatation. "How much do you know?"

"Everything."

"Blaine-"

"Stop it. Just...stop this." Blaine's face contorted with apprehension.

"Blaine she made me promise!"

"Are you in kintergarten or...? Promises don't need to be kept, Kurt. She's lying. The only person who gets hurt if we rat her out is her. She's clever, but... I'm _Blaine Anderson._ We need to get the code to the phone, check over the information, and if there's anything that breaks the law, we report it. Once we've done that, we let the other girl in the photos decide what we do to them."

"How'd you know...?"

"I...I followed you."

"So she's alive." Kurt stated calmly. "How are you feeling about that?"

"Honest answer?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Blaine."

"Pretty good. It's nice not having the weight of someone's death on your shoulders." he sighed, glaring down at the floor. "I managed to do some research about the girl in the photos. Her name's Brittany S. Pierce."

"Anything that could help us?"

"Her dad's pretty high up within the government. Compared to this guy, Cooper's like... Z-list."

"So I guess he's not very liberal then? If he's willing to basically disown his own daughter if she was with Santana."

"The girl didn't graduate from high school. Failed twice, so they decided she couldn't cope and kicked her out. Huge scandal in the press a few years ago. I suspect her daddy's already pretty disappointed."

"So how do we deal with this case?"

"Ensure protection for the girl, I suppose. Get Santana put in custody if what would be revealed in the press is really that bad. Delete all the information from the phone, including the photos."

"Any word gets out about what's on that phone, Blaine... They'd kill Santana. This man- Brittany's father-..."

"He's pretty corrupt, I know. The rest of the government have no idea. The phone has... government secrets and god knows what on it I asume."

"This case confuses me."

"Santana's witholding a lot of the information, but we've got the phone... all we need is a code. I've tried her birthday and her codename."

"Codename? She has a _codename?_"

"Snix, apparently. The internet is a wonderful place, my friend."

"I'm aware."

"Look, I'm sorry Kurt." Blaine spoke suddenly, his hand shaking with an unusual bout of apprehension.

"What on earth do you have to be sorry for?" Kurt laughed, taking a seat beside his friend.

"I kissed you... and then I found out about Santana's death, and... I just forgot all about it."

"The case took a turn for the worst, Blaine. You had a right to grieve over it. You must have had a lot on your mind..."

Blaine's breathing hitched for his second, his throat clenching tightly as he swallowed down the wave of guilt that passed over him. He looked at Kurt, who noticed that the usual confident glint in his friend's eye was absent, showing only a man who, despite being so full of hatred, was filled with love too. He slid along the chair, edging closer to Blaine, and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

"M'fine Kurt." Blaine sighed, looking at his friend. "Just...guilty."

"You've nothing to feel guilty about..."

Their lips touched gently together as they softly kissed. A smile spread across Kurt's face as he pulled away for a second, catching an accidental glimpse of Blaine's equally large grin. He'd heard many people say some horrible things about Blaine, but in that moment, he knew all the comments weren't true- or were at least exaggerated. Blaine was a lovely man, filled with more compassion and intelligence than the majority of the people on the planet. He was just smart enough to invest these attributes in only those that were worth his time.

"I love you..." Kurt blurted, gazing into Blaine's eyes.

"I love you too, Kurt." Blaine smiled gently, pulling Kurt closer to him for a hug. "I really love you."


	18. Scandal in Lima:Safety

**I should tell you... I deleted my Wholock!Klaine fic. It was proving to be...awful, so I scrapped it. I'll be writing a proper Superwholock fic soon though, so look out for that:) 'Scandal In Lima' will be finished soon, so I'll either be going on to base a story on The Dying Detective or The Final Problem(Prepare for Reichenbach feels...).**

* * *

><p>Kurt watched as Blaine's forehead clenched with concentration. He'd been distracted from this case. What would've been a simple 'get-the-phone-and-run' case had turned into something big and complicated, even for Blaine's brain to decipher. Blaine was faced with a multitude of opposing threats to solving the case, and the defeats were getting to him. He wanted nothing more than to chuck Santana in jail for whatever it was she had done, break into the phone and delete all of the information, but for some reason this simple task was proving to be near impossible to complete.<p>

Kurt had seen Blaine neglect his own needs to solve a case before- he'd skipped numerous meals when investigating the case with the copper sulphate, and he'd rarely slept during their time at dalton- but never to the extent that he was now. Kurt was pretty sure the man hadn't slept for much longer than a few hours in the past three days, and his theory was only further confirmed as he examined Blaine's glazed glare, fixated on the newspaper clippings in front of him. He downed another cup of coffee, rubbing his shaky hands together before he adjusted the position of the newspapers on the table so he could read the next one.

"I'm making breakfast." Kurt's manipulative plan had begun. "Want me to make you anything?"

"Just another cup of coffee, thanks..." He yawned, pushing the coffee cup away from him.

"I'm making you some food, and you're going to eat it."

"I'm working, Kurt." Blaine snapped, his eyes still fixated on the newspapers. "I'll eat once I've got a clear idea on what the phone passcode could be."

"And the newspaper clippings are helping with that...how?"

"Important dates, Santana's interests... I'll be able to work out the passcode from that."

"Just take a break for five minutes Blaine... You look like crap."

"Thanks." he sighed. "And no."

"Then eat while you work."

"Fine..."

"And it wouldn't hurt for you to sleep for a bit."

"I can't work while I'm sleeping, can I?"

"No shit sherlock."

"Then I'm not sleeping."

"You'll sleep. Just watch it."

"You going to drug me?" Blaine joked.

"Don't need to. You look like you're about to faceplant into the table."

"That...Good deduction, Hummel..." and with one last yawn, he pressed his head against the cold table, falling asleep almost instantly.

With difficulty, Kurt managed to get Blaine onto the sofa without waking him up, before he went to find a blanket to lay over him. Focused on making sure Blaine ate something when he woke up, he ceased to notice the woman's head peaking out from the bedcovers in Blaine's room.

* * *

><p>"Well that's what you get when you convince yourself you don't need to eat or sleep to survive." Kurt watched as Blaine swallowed back a painkiller and proceeded to gulp down his sandwich. "A killer headache and a case of the munchies. And let me guess... You dreamt of puppies and demons and puppy demons and loads of other odd things."<p>

"Did I... I talked in my sleep didn't I?" Blaine took another large bite of his sandwich.

"So the puppy demons were fluffy were they? And pink. You said they were pink."

"Purple _actually. _Their eyes were pink."

"And what was the evil one's name?"

"Snuffles."

"An evil demonic puppy... and it's name is Snuffles?"

"Don't laugh. He started the puppy apocolypse."

"Just eat your sandwich."

"I'm...sorry."

"Hey I get it." Kurt smiled. "You don't like to be distracted from your work."

"I got a little...carried away. I just want to solve this case. Could you go get the other pile of newspaper clippings from my room? I'd get them but...I'm eating."

"I'll get it. You just finish you're sandwich."

* * *

><p>"BLAINE!" Kurt screamed, desperately scrambling for something he could use to hit the 'stranger' before he realised who it was. "Wait... Santana?"<p>

"Of course it's me, Hummel." she smiled genuinely, her lips not plastered with their usual coating of blood red lipstick. "Sorry for startling you."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"What's going on?" Blaine rushed into the room, standing over Kurt proctectively until he noticed that it was Santana. "Oh Santana."

"Hey there, hobbit."

"Why are you here?"

"They're after me..."

"Santana, just accept your defeat. I've called my brother. That's why they are looking for you." Blaine took something from his pocket and proceeded to hand it to her. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Here's your phone..."

She held it in her hands, examining it for any sign of it being tampered with, before continuing to type in her passcode to make sure everything was still there.

"It's...the passcode isn't working..." she glared at the phone, typing the numbers in again.

"Because that isn't your phone. It's an exact replica, and you've just given me the passcode."

"You... You bitch!"

"Language, Santana."

"Give me the phone. The real phone."

"Can't do that, sorry."

"GIVE ME IT!"

"Trying to avoid jail? You've killed people, and you need to do the time."


	19. Scandal in Lima:Boyfriend

**So this is the last chapter of 'Scandal in Lima', so I'll need your help to decide whether I should base the next installment on The Dying Detective, The Final Problem(Reichenbach) or a mix of both? **

**The Dying Detective would include lots of fluff and cute Klaine stuff, possibly some humour-filled Superwholock!Inspired fever dreams on Blaine's expense, with the teensiest bit of angst and probably a crap case as opposed so something confusing with deductions.**

**The Final Problem would include Moriarty!Sebastian(and possibly someone else being Sebastian Moran but I'm not sure yet), lots of angst, a teeny bit of fluff, Klaine dealing with stuff and...Plot twists.**

**And if I combine the two, I'll look into the main bits of The Final Problem, and use the basic idea of The Dying Detective to express them.**

**If you want to help me decide, I'd appreciate it if you gave me ideas in the review bit:D **

* * *

><p>Santana wrestled to reach the phone, but Blaine pulled his hand back instinctively, listening to the sudden scream of police sirens outside of the house. Santana forgot about the phone, curling towards the door to the backyard, before Kurt stumbled over, guarding the exit like his life depended on it.<p>

"You think I didn't notice you were here?" Blaine smirked, his arms folded boldly. "There was red lipstick on one of the towels in the bathroom. There are footprints in the hall, and as far as I'm aware, neither Kurt or I have a desire to wear high heels."

"Save the deductions for someone who is impressed." Santana scoffed, watching as the policemen burst in through the door.

"Don't worry, I'm impressed." Kurt grinned, almost laughing as the handcuffs clenched around Santana's wrists, and Blaine handed the phone to one of the other men. "Thank you."

"It's our job." The policeman grinned, taking a look at Santana as he slid the phone into an evidence bag. "You two were only meant to recieve the pictures weren't you?"

"Blaine insisted on solving the whole case, instead of just getting the pictures back to the girl."

"Well we have great respect for your...friend-"

"Boyfriend. I'm his boyfriend." Blaine grinned, sliding his hand beside Kurt's.

"We have great respect for your boyfriend. He's an asset to all of us."

"Thank you." he smiled again, tightening his grip on Kurt's hand.

"You're a lovely couple..." another policeman nodded with a wink as they dragged Santana out to the car.

...

Blaine held the USB stick firmly in his hands as he and Kurt walked towards the girl's house. The pictures were all that was left from the mounds of information the police had found on the phone, from information about all things corrupt and illegal, to some unfairly withheld information. It had been Kurt's idea to ask the girl about what should've been done with the photos, and Blaine had agreed fully.

"So were you friends with Santana?" Kurt smiled at the woman, who's name was Brittany.

"She was...my girlfriend." Brittany smiled, feeling slightly intimidated by the intelligent glare Blaine was directing her way. "Delete the photos. My dad won't like them."

"If you are alright with that, we're perfectly happy to oblige."

"Thank you."

...

Blaine wormed his way past the coffee table to join Kurt on the sofa, handing him a warm cup of coffee as he sat down. He smiled up at his boyfriend, happy just to be able to call him that.

"What are you watching?" he grinned, sitting his head on Kurt's shoulder.

"Supernatural." Kurt laughed.

"Oh I like this episode. It's the one where they're working in the office and end up hunting some ghost together?"

"When did you watch it?"

"You don't think I sat at that table reading articles for three whole days did you?" Blaine sunk back into his chair for a few seconds. "You were out for a whole day... I was bored... I got hold of your DVDs... made my way through most of the first four seasons."

"So you didn't lose sleep over the case... You lost sleep over a TV Show?"

"No...both."

"Only you Blaine... Only you."

A smile spread across Kurt's face as Blaine nuzzled closer into the hug, and within seconds, both of them were fast asleep, the case being over, the hassle being over, but the relationship just having started.


	20. The Dying Detective:Odd

**I am taking my time to do some research on this particular Sherlock Holmes story(The Dying Detective), so I hope you enjoy it:D!**

**I also want to ask, if I'm writing a little Superwholock dream sequence, who would you like to see as Sam, Dean, Castiel and The Doctor?**

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was the long suffering companion of the extremely intelligent Blaine Anderson, and had spent enough time with him to know most of his quirks and habits- of which he had a lot of. He was perfectly accustomed with coming home to a dining table drenched in Sulphuric acid, or finding odd things hiding behind the milk in the fridge. One thing he'd never managed to do though, was go days without seeing Kurt.<p>

On a normal day, the two were almost inseperable. As eccentric as Blaine often was, Kurt's occasional flamboyance seemed to balance out Blaine's oddities. They were in awe of each other, kissing and hugging at every oppurtinity they managed to get, and solving crimes together, just like they always did. Kurt loved watching Blaine's thought process, and had even been successful in acquiring a few tips in the science of deduction from his new boyfriend. It baffled Kurt sometimes, that he was working on solving criminal cases instead of standing on the broadway stage he'd always assumed he was destined to perform on.

Things happen for a reason. If he hadn't choked on his NYADA audtion, he'd never have met Blaine, or helped him to get to the bottom of the cases they'd worked on. If he hadn't lost so much money, he'd never have had to move in with Blaine. He was grateful. Too grateful to put into words.

It was for this reason that when Blaine vanished early one Monday morning, and ceased to return until the late hours of the night, with little explanation of where he'd run off to, and his reason for doing so. Normally, Kurt wouldn't have raised an eyebrow at this. Blaine was unpredictable at the best of times, and his disappearance could've been put down to his odd-ball tendencies. It was the fact that Kurt hadn't been feeling right for the whole weekend, and,after fussing over him for most of Sunday, Blaine now seemed to be flippant about the whole thing. Kurt slept restlessly throughout the entire day, jolted by every click and creak that he heard, thinking it was Blaine arriving home on every occasion.

...

_"Where were you?" Kurt yawned, scooting along the sofa to make room for Blaine._

_"Out." Blaine spoke in monotone as he shrugged. "Not feeling any better, I suspect?"_

_"I'd feel fine if I hadn't been worrying about where you were all day!"_

_"I had some errands to run, okay?" he nodded towards the shopping bags in the corner of the hall. "Shopping and things like that, and I stopped by at Cooper's for a couple of beers and a catch up."_

_"So that's why you smell like a liquor store. Go brush your teeth. The smell's making me nauseous..." he joked, turning away in fake disgust. "I'm just joking. I just wish you'd told me where you'd run off to."_

_"Look, I've acquired a case. I needed to sort out a few things, and I didn't want to wake you when I left."_

_"I'm fine Blaine, just a bit too tired that's all. I'm not sick. Just feeling a little under the weather because I'm getting over a cold, and as far as I'm concerned, you don't look much better."_

_"I'm fine..."_

_"Blaine, you look dead on your feet. Go and sleep, especially if you have a case to work on."_

_"That...doesn't sound like a bad idea."_

_"I bet you're getting sick, and you just don't want to admit it."_

_"That's a load of bull..."_

_..._

Kurt's new deductions skills seemed to have been quite accurate, as within three days, Blaine was sprawled out on the sofa, his oddly gaunt face burning red with fever. Kurt ceased to tease him by saying 'I told you so' as sympathy for his poor boyfriend overcame him. Blaine insisted he was fine, insisting on missing out on the 'bed rest' Kurt droned on about. He hadn't touched food in hours, adamant that even the tiniest bite would make him vomit, and he struggled to sleep for more than half an hour at a time, thanks to his annoyingly stubborn high temperature.

"You had some more Tylenol?" Kurt handed him a bottle of water, reaching to feel his forehead again. "You're still really warm."

"That stuff doesn't work, Kurt. You know, I don't think they even have it in the UK. Know why? It doesn't work!" Blaine sighed, burying his head into Kurt's cool hand as it pressed against his head. "I'm okay, Kurt. You don't have to worry. I'm twenty seven. I can take care of myself."

"Says the man who went three days without food or sleep because he was too busy readings newspapers and watching Supernatural."

"Don't be mean to me..." he pouted jokingly, but huffed when he realised he felt to awful to laugh full heartedly.

"Do you need anything?"

"A cloth soaked in cold water?" he took a sip of the water in his hand. "And get some DVDs? Please?"

"You're nice when you're sick." Kurt laughed as he headed into the kitchen to get what Blaine had asked for.

"I'm always nice."

"You just keep telling yourself that, honey. Try and get some sleep, and I'll set up the DVD player for when you wake up, okay?"

Blaine nuzzled into the blanket Kurt had given him, feeling somewhat better with his faithful companion by his side.


	21. The Dying Detective:Trenchcoat

_Blaine takes a quick glance over at Cooper as they sat in the car, on their way to their father's beloved church. From the dark circles underneath his brother's eyes, and the uncomfortable grimace he kept making when he swallowed, he could tell that his dad hadn't made a great decision on dragging poor Cooper out of his sick bed. _

_'You're fourteen, Coop. You're perfectly capable of pushing through illness..." their dad sighed, seeming sympathetic but coming across as agressive. _

_"Blaine's only five, and you seem to think that about him too." Cooper glared at his father, swallowing down the nausea that was rising in his gullet._

_"You'll live, Cooper. Now get you're coat and get in the car. You too, Blaine." _

_..._

_Blaine watched as Cooper's face contorted in discomfort as the first prayer was recited. At the ending 'amen', he saw Cooper breathe in slowly, trying to calm his stomach. Even at five, he was almost always the most observant person in the room, and he mentally deducted Cooper's situation. _

_Cooper almost definitely had a fever, from the red tinge in his forehead, to the light layer of sweat that coated his scalp. He was tired, from the dark circles underneath his eyes. He was definitely nauseous, made obvious by the palid tone of his cheeks, and the desperate swallowing he kept repeating. He curled back into his chair, willing for the service to be over soon so he could curl back up in his bed, away from his dad and his mother and his irritatingly clever smart-ass of a brother._

_Mr Anderson should've listened. Maybe that poor lady's hat could've been saved. Maybe Cooper wouldn't have had to spend another week off school with his head resting against the toilet bowl. Maybe Blaine wouldn't be so overly independent._

_..._

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered as Blaine stirred from his short nap.

"M'cold..." he mumbled, resting his head against the arm of the chair.

"Your temerature's gone down a bit."

"Don't feel any better... Worse."

"Does your head hurt? Stomach? Chest?"

Blaine shook his head, "Everything hurts, pretty much. But I'm fine Kurt. You don't have to worry."

"I'm still going to worry, you know. Puck called earlier. He was wondering why you weren't answering your phone."

"You didn't tell him I'm sick, did you?"

"I know you Blaine. Of course I didn't. I said you were working on an independent case and not to call for the rest of the week."

"And that is why I love you." Blaine mumbled almost incoherently, burying his head further into his blanket. "I feel so...dumb."

"Do you insist on being overly intelligent all the time?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Just slow down for a bit. You're here with me. I don't doubt you're intelligence. Just relax."

Blaine contemplated it for a moment, as if making the decision whether to leap up from the sofa, ignoring the fuzziness in his head and the restless tiredness that forced his eyelids to droop, or to curl up underneath his blanket, accepting his defeat- was it even defeat? Taking a little rest once in a while was always believed to be a sign of weakness in Blaine's eyes, but for some strange reason, the idea of a little bit of relaxation came with no shame. He clasped his hands around the DVD case, trying to decide between two different episodes, before deciding to watch from where he left off on his Supernatural marathon, starting with 'Yellow Fever'.

"I kind of adore you for deciding on this epiosde..." Kurt smiled. "Best episode ever."

"You adore me. Period." Blaine grinned, taking a sip of water. "Well I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep for a while, so... we might as well build on your deduction skills. So... Transactional analysis. It's not so much a science of deduction, but it's good for your people skills."

...

"ITS THE... EYE OF THE TIGER..." Kurt sang, mimicking the dance on the television.

"I'd dance but... I don't want to hurl." Blaine smiled, before proceeding to mime along. "I'm just going to sleep."

...

_"Kurt?" Blaine muttered as he awoke from his sleep, turning to see his companion sporting a tweed jacket and a bowtie._

_"No." the person- who Blaine thought was most definitely Kurt- sighed. "I'm The Doctor."_

_"Stop playing games Kurt. I'm not in the mood for you to prank me..."_

_"We need your help Blaine!"_

_"By 'we' you mean?"_

_"Finn and Puck and I."_

_"The guy from forensics and the Detective Inspector?"_

_"No that's just their fraud identities. They're the hunters! The ones with the 67 Chevy Impala!"_

_"Who?"_

_"Never mind! The angels have the TARDIS! My TARDIS!"_

_"...Kurt stop this."_

_"Stop calling me Kurt."_

_"And what's this about an angel?"_

_"The creeper wearing a trenchcoat? Haven't you seen him around? His name's Castiel, but call him Will Schuester if you see him. He has a new vessel. He's incognito."_

_Blaine sat back, realising what was going on. He was dreaming. That's what you get when you watch marathon rounds of Supernatural and Doctor Who with a 100.1 fever he thought to himself. He peeked out of the window, noticing the Impala sitting in front of the block of appartments, and the TARDIS peeking out from behind a selection of trees. The Consulting Detective, the Time Lord and the hunters all in one place, to solve some confusing case, all while Blaine battled through the swirly, fluffy world of his odd fever dream._

_Time to stop this trenchcoat wearing creeper, he mentally noted. _


	22. The Dying Detective:Heart

The thought of the creeper in the trenchcoat seemed to lodge itself in Blaine's mind as he pressed his feverish head against his hands. He heard the door clasping shut as Kurt left the house to stock up on medical and food supplies, and sighed, not exactly warming to the idea of being alone. He was half convinced that he was still somewhere between reality and his odd dream, and the flickers of the shadows only contributed to his theory that the trenchcoat creeper, Will Schuester was still storming around the apartment, devouring the contents of their fridge.

He prepared himself to stand up, before lifting his suddenly heavy body up from the sofa to make himself a cup of tea. A wave of uncertainty concerning his balance struck him, forcing him to lean against the coffee table to make his way over to the kitchen. This case. This stupid case. It was all the stupid case that he'd hidden from Kurt's fault.

He heard his phone ringing and almost decided to ignore it as it was too far away, before realising that it might have been Kurt, so fought through the dizziness that filled his head to reach for the iPhone, giving up on waiting on the kettle and grabbing a bottle of water instead.

Just as he'd feared, it wasn't Kurt, but Puck instead. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten to check the caller ID, over zealous to talk to Kurt, and ended up having to explain himself to the Detective Inspector.

"Kurt said you were working on a case of your own this week. Are you sure you don't want some of the boys from the station helping you out?" Puck's voice pulsed through the phone, doing nothing more than send a searing pain through Blaine's head.

"I'm sure." he wheezed, trying to come across as vaguely well, although the lethargic, lifeless tone of his voice said otherwise.

"Are you okay? You sound like you've been run over by a truck." the voice was practically piercing into his skull now, drilling pain into his aching forehead.

"M'okay. Just a little under the weather today, that's all."

"So you got your bitch to lie for you?"

"No. I am working an independent case this week. Getting sick's just part of solving it."

"I'm not even going to ask..."

"I wouldn't bother."

...

The shadow fluttered across the room again, the tail of the trenchcoat floating delicately through the air. The creeper edged closer, it's shadow growing larger as it wormed its way towards him. Blaine flinched, trying to rationalise his thoughts. He reached for the thermometer sitting on the coffee table, seeing if his fever was worthy of terrorizing hallucinations. He buried his head into his pillow, proctecting himself from the bullets of light and noise that fired into his skull, wishing for Kurt to come home soon.

"Blaine?" the door creaked open, and the face he'd been so desperate to see brightened up the room, despite the fact that Blaine had turned off all the lights. "Oh god, you don't look well..."

"I don't feel good..." he mumbled, letting his walls come down as he sighed, looking like he was about to start sobbing.

"You're okay..." Kurt stroked his loose curls, sympathising with his poor little puppy dog. "You're not at all yourself today are you?"

"I don't know. Maybe this is the real me... Vulnerable, weak and..._tired. _I'm so freaking _tired..._"

"What do you mean?"

"I just... I've not always been like this Kurt. Arrogant and flippant with little people skills... People have hurt me in the past, Kurt. In jealousy, or spite. I've built up walls. A fabricated persona... It's an act. It's all a freaking act. I de-humanize myself to make an impact. I act as if I'm superior... As if I'm bigger and stronger... As if my intellect puts me miles above the rest- and trust me...sometimes it does..-but..."

"I must look like an ant to you." Kurt stated, feeling smaller and smaller by the second in the presence of someone so metaphorically huge.

"No. You look like a giant. In reality, I feel small. Tiny in comparison to people like you." Blaine sunk back, feeling small in comparison to the superiority of the man in front of him.

"Blaine, you're amazing. And I'm not just saying that because you're my best friend and my boyfriend. I mean it. Who else can tell someone's been hillwalking just from the scuff on That someone's been drinking the night before from the angle of their tie? What someone had for their lunch and where they ate it from a stain on a napkin?"

"There will be others, I assume." he looked down, feeling more and more deflated as he beat himself down.

"But they aren't you, Blaine. You're brilliant. You not only bask in your own superior intelligence, you have the capability for it to rub off on others."

"Stop being nice to me. People hate me Kurt. People hate me because I'm a liar; because I put on the same face everyday. A face that reads 'I don't care'..."

"I know you care. You're one of the most caring people I've ever met. You may not care about that annoying Rachel girl, or some of the people you meet on the job, but you care about me, and I've seen you care about Nick and Jeff, you cared about Santana and heck you even care about Cooper! And if you didn't care, why would you do the job you do? To prove your clever? I know that's not the case. You care about the people you save when you're responsible for a murderer being forced into a prison cell. You care about the kids that get to go home to their parents when a kidnapper has been found guilty. You're not the sociopathic future killer that Rachel dubbed you as the first time I went on a case with you. You're not the heartless detective people say you are. You have a heart, and a huge one at that."

"I love you." Blaine smiled, the pain in his head beginning to receed.

"I love you too." Kurt flashed a smile back.

"I'd kiss you, but I don't want to get you sick."

"Just kiss me inside your mind palace, or whatever you call it."

"Imagined-Kurt is a much better kisser..."

"Normal Blaine is no match for Imagined-Blaine either..."

"Don't deny it. I'm an amazing kisser."

"When you're better, you can prove it to me... But I don't know how it will compare, because Imagined-Blaine is amazing."


	23. The Dying Detective:Brothers

**If I'm doing more Superwholock dreams, how would you guys feel about Wincester!Anderson brothers? Like... later on though?**

**Oh and if you have any suggestions on what you want me to write or just want to say hi, send me an ask on my tumblr which there is a link to on my fanfiction profile:)**

* * *

><p>In the past, Cooper would've been completely indifferent if Blaine hadn't called. Heck, <em>Blaine never called. <em>But for some reason, the sudden absence of his annoying little voice ringing through the phone had set him on the edge of his seat, worrying about his little brother. Their attempt at becoming closer was a new thing, and Blaine had been making sure to call and make small talk every single day, even if it was just to irritate his big brother, so when Blaine had ceased to accomplish this, Cooper took it upon himself to call.

He pressed the cigarette between his teeth, setting it alight as he clutched the phone to his ear. Previously, you'd have probably been right if you'd said Cooper didn't care for his brother, but now, Cooper definitely cared a little bit at least.

"Had a nice day... Thought I'd call and see how yours was." Cooper smiled as Blaine answered.

"Shut up..." Blaine mumbled half-heartedly.

"Well don't you sound like a bed of roses?"

"Dead roses."

"Yeah."

"That have been trampled on."

"Uh-huh."

"By a giant."

"Yes."

"Wearing steel toed boots."

"So you're not feeling well then?" Cooper laughed.

"That, my friend, is an understatement." Blaine sighed. "You and your girlfriend have had a little spat haven't you?"

"How did you know?"

"Even if I'm sick, I'm still pretty damn good at reading people."

"But through the phone."

"Hey you called me, obviously you're bored."

"So what is it that's wrong with you?"

"Kurt thinks it's the flu, but I just feel like...shit."

"Have you been as melodramatic as you usually are? The dying detective plagued with pestilence?"

"No actually."

"Kurt's good for you."

"Thanks."

...

Blaine, cocooned in a blanket with a water bottle clutched in his hand, staggered throughout the flat, searched for his missing flatmate. He finally understood how Kurt must have felt when he went AWOL a few days before. Heck, Kurt probably wouldn't even be missing if it weren't for Blaine's 'day out'. He cursed inwardly when he'd checked every room, finding no sign of his boyfriend. He gave up, partly because he'd deducted early on in his search that Kurt wasn't in the house, and partly because his illness was beginning to bother him, targetting his usually orderly head and his now aching chest. Deciding that the dizziness causing his eyes to droop and making his vision fuzzy was probably due to the fact that he hadn't eaten in at least twenty four hours, and headed through to the kitchen, hoping that he could stomach at least a little bit of grilled cheese or a small bowl of cereal.

Fighting against the nausea, he managed half of a sandwich before coming to the easy conclusion that if he was to eat anymore, he'd most definitely vomit. He refrained from phoning Kurt just yet, assuming that he'd been he'd left to go shopping and had got caught up. It was only when his overly happy brother burst through the door with a thick collection of new insults sitting underneath his tongue did he suspect something was wrong.

"Kurt left when you were sleeping." Cooper grinned, trying to stop himself from laughing at his brother. "Stepbrother's wedding tomorrow. He totally forgot. Had to leave quite quickly or he wouldn't be able to make it."

"Oh..." he sunk down onto the sofa, feeling slightly neglected.

"He said he'd have taken you as his date if you'd have been well."

"And you're here because?"

"Kurt said you've been pretty sick. Wanted me to come make sure you're okay, so I'll be staying here until he's back, or you're coming to mine."

"You're just lonely because Sami's probably going to leave you."

"No..." he glared down at the floor, knowing that his brother was right.

"Kurt said you've been pretty laidback. All you want to do is sit and watch television and sleep?"

"Pretty much yeah."

"Good. You work too much. You deserve a break."

"I don't actually miss it. It's nice not having to worry about being smart or anything."

"So have you barfed or anything?"

"Nope. I'm not you. Honestly, you must have the weakest stomach ever."

"What about that time you puked on that dog?"

"Correction, the dog puked on me, which is nothing compared to the explosion you fired in that poor old lady's direction."

"Oh god don't bring that up... Change of subject...Um... How are you and Kurt doing?"

"Brilliant."

"He's good for you. Really good for you."

"Um...thanks."

"You deserve someone like him. You might not think this, but you're a really nice guy Blaine. You deserve to be happy."

"So has dad called recently?"

"Nope. Cares as much about what I'm up to as he cares what you're up to. It's not like he ever cared much. I mean, if we were kids right now, he'd still be dragging you off to church."

"Maybe that's why I'm a heartless-"

"You're not heartless, Blaine. God no! I mean... I know we have our differences, but I love you brother! And I'm sure you love me too." Cooper grinned at his brother.

"Sure about that?" Blaine winked with laughter. "Would you rather go back to yours instead of stay here? I'm feeling okay."


	24. The Dying Detective:Pestilence

**_Yay for Wincester!Andersons :) If you don't watch Supernatural, you can easily just skip the dream sequence thing if you like. It's just a little thing because a lot of the reviewers like Supernatural and...yeah. Any form of Superwholock is good in general._**

* * *

><p>By this point, Blaine was practically wearing his illness. Although he'd started to feel better not long after he got to Cooper's, within the late hours of the night he'd brought up the sandwich he'd eaten for his lunch, and the minute bowl of soup he'd sipped at during dinner. Hesitant to be far away from a toilet or a bucket that he could vomit in, he'd plonked himself down on the sofa, complaining that a bed was too warm to sleep in. Cooper didn't want to worry Kurt as he'd be gone for a few days, so refrained from telling him about the dip in his brother's health, but pledged to tell him if he got much worse. Considering Blaine's fever had spiked a little, he probably should've given it a mention to Kurt, but he was perfectly capable of handling it, and if anything got out of hand there was always the doctor's office of the hospital.<p>

"How did you get so sick, Blainers?" Cooper mumbled sympathetically under his breath.

"The case... I needed to get sick for the case..." he mumbled, rubbing his eyes desperately to try and get rid of the sleepiness that plagued them. "Kurt...I miss Kurt..."

"What do you mean you needed to get sick for the case?"

"To solve it. But I got too sick Coop... Too sick..." he stared down at the floor, looking more and more like a sad puppy dog with every facial movement as he stared stealthily towards the trusty trash can which sat beside the sofa, ready to be of assistance.

"Hey it's okay, Blaine. You going to be sick?"

"No. I'm just cold."

"Why did you need to get sick for the case, Blaine?"

"To guilt trip the guy into admitting what he did... I want to go to sleep... But the dreams... they are so boring... The stupid creeper in the trenchcoat...The hunters..."

"Hey, just focus on switching up your dream, and it will. Especially you because you can control your mind, unlike most people."

"I can't sleep. Feel too sick."

"Don't hold back from throwing up. You'll feel better."

"Which is what you've told me every time I've told you I still feel like shit."

"It's true though. Even if it's just for ten minutes, you get a little bit of relief. And seriously, I'd eat something. So that if you are sick, you've actually got something to throw up and aren't racking your stomach every time you gag."

"I just want this to be over Coop..."

"Hey I know. Being sick sucks balls. You just have to fight through it Blaine..."

"Not just that. I want it all to be over. I want my brain to shut up. To not keep telling me that I have to be clever all the time, even if I'm drenched in a feverish sweat. It's like dad. Forcing me to be strong, even if I feel like I'm falling apart inside. And god Cooper... I feel like I'm falling apart inside right now. I want to be _normal. _Not exceptionally smart. Not an object of brilliance. _Normal._" he glared down at the floor, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

"You're just over emotional, Blainers-"

"It's Blaine."

"_Blaine... _Try and go to sleep, and I'll call Kurt when you wake up so you can speak to him, okay?"

...

_"I'm driving." Cooper ran ahead of Blaine towards the 67 Chevy Impala-other wise known as 'Cooper's Baby'- and plonked himself in his beloved driver's seat. "We're stopping off at the shop on our way because **someone **forgot to buy pie... And I love me some pie."_

_"Well **someone **broke the rule about smoking in the car, so I owe you nothing. Any leads on where we might find Pestilence?" Blaine slid into his chair, leaning back to relax as his body crashed against the leather._

_"You're the smart one. Any ideas?"_

_"There's been a flu epidemic in Westerville, Ohio which is a forty five minute drive from here." he cleared his throat._

_"Maybe Pestilence is catching up with us. You don't look so hot."_

_"Well that shtriga back in Wisconsin almost drained the life out of me two days ago, so I think I have a right to be a little under the weather, without this stupid Horseman to be responsible. Anyway, the epidemic seems to have only spread within this university- Dalton Academy- which just so happens to be helping out with research on some new vaccine. If you remember, that's where I studied a couple of years ago, and it's always been a bit... odd." he stopped for a minute, catching his breath._

_"Blaine, if you're going to barf tell me because I'm not letting you puke all over my baby." _

_"M'fine. We're just getting closer." he glared out of the window, his usual face of angst spreading across his lips._

_"Are you upset about something?"_

_"Well maybe I am, yeah. I mean... Kurt practically died because of me... For a smart guy, I'm pretty damn stupid..."_

_..._

"Oh god, I watch far too much Supernatural..." Blaine mumbled underneath his breath as he felt the discomfort rising in his throat. "Coop! Bucket..."

"Hey you're okay..." he rushed over, holding the trashcan underneath his brother's chin as he gagged desperately, bringing up nothing but foamy saliva. "It's okay."

"Can't breathe..." he gasped in between retching. "M'sorry Coop..."

"You always did get hit by sickness worse than me when we were kids. I mean... I'd just projectile puke for about an hour, then I'd be running about like crazy. You'd hide any little illness, and it'd build up so you felt worse later on. Feel better?"

"Not really. M'head hurts. Can you hand me my phone? I want to call Kurt..."

...

"Blaine!" Kurt's voice filled Kurt's ears, his dulcet tone instantly making him feel better. "How are you feeling?"

"M'worse..." he forced out hoarsely, his voice quivering. "But don't worry. M'okay. Just sick. How was the wedding?"

"Didn't happen. A close family friend hadn't shown up, and my stepbrother's fiance wouldn't let the ceremony start without her. Turns out some truck had fired into the car, and that she'd been rushed into hospital. I'll probably be stuck here for a few more days. Everything's pretty fraught with all the rearrangements and worry and... yeah. I'd be there if I could, but as long as you're feeling okay, I'll try not to worry. Have you just woken up, my sleepy boy?"

"Yeah. I... I miss you."

"I miss you too, Blaine. God you don't sound yourself today, do you?"

"Don't feel like myself either. Think I've puked more than I did after the incident with the Copper Sulphate..."

"I don't think that's even possible Blaine."

"Do I need to lie to you Kurt? Do I need to tell you I'm fine, just so you won't worry."

"I'm not going to come rushing home if you don't need or want me to."

"Of course I want you here, but go have fun with your family. I'm fine here with Cooper."

"But are you _fine_, Blaine?"

"Honestly, no. I feel like complete and utter crap. Probably just because I've had to endure two days of this, but... Coop says if my fever spikes any higher, it's ER time."

"Just get well soon, Blainers. I love you. I love you so freaking much."

"I love you too..."


	25. The Dying Detective:Sick

It was like they were little again, where all the feuds went no further than a broken action figure, or a stupid game, and they were more like friends than brothers. Blaine was practically curled in on himself, clenching his stomach in pain after having retched his insides raw. He swallowed the thick saliva filling his dry mouth down his burning throat, feeling the fire inside his oesophagus grow. Cooper watched his pitiful brother, wishing that there was _something_ he could do to stop the pain.

"Blaine, I'll drive you down the doctor's office down the road. It's always empty, so they can file you in as an emergency case- which I'm pretty sure you are anyway. Get you some antibiotics or something." Cooper sighed, doing the only thing he could do.

"And what's that going to do? It's a virus. I'm sure it is. Antibiotics won't work, so it's a waste of time and money..." Blaine heaved himself into a sitting position, hugging his chest to a pillow.

"You're fever's higher." Cooper placed his hand onto his brother's forehead. "If it spikes tonight I'm dragging your sorry ass down to ER, whether you like it or not."

"I won't even be conscious if it gets worse, Coop. I won't have a choice."

"At least take something that'll take your temperature down a bit. Even if you can't really keep it down... well... a leaky dam is better than no damn at all."

"I miss when you were a twat."

"Oh I'm the twat am I-..."

" Blaine you told some stalkerish guy that you'd moved to the Netherlands just so he'd leave you alone once!"

"Poor old Chandler. I had a look at his facebook a few months ago and he's still in Amsterdam looking for me..."

"Just don't do that to Kurt."

...

Kurt's eyes fixated on his stepbrother Finn as he paced the floor, worrying about the close friend they'd almost lost the day before. Although things had been blown out of proportion, the girl was in pretty bad shape, enough for it to be an inconvenience for Kurt to leave just yet. His mind deviated towards Blaine, and how he must have been feeling. He hadn't been _that _sick when he'd left to stay with his dad for the week, and Kurt had just assumed that he'd have gotten over the cold or flu or whatever he had by the end of the week.

"You okay, kiddo?" his dad, Burt, noticed his chagrin as he glared at his phone, contemplating whether to call Blaine or not."

"Yeah. I'm fine..."

"I know you, Kurt. Something's bothering you."

"My boyfriend called about an hour ago. He was ill before I left to come here, but he's sicker now. It's just a cold or something, but I can't stop worrying about him."

"I can give you a lift back home, if you want."

"It's an hour and a half away, dad... And you're busy enough with all this drama as it is."

"Tell me about him. We haven't really spoken about any of this. What's he like?"

"He's... Dad I can't even explain how amazing he is. You think I'm intelligent? Wait until you meet Blaine. He's the smartest person you'll ever meet."

"So is he okay?"

"It was just a cold when I left. I mean, he was burning up, but he said he felt better and went to stay at his brother's while I was here, and since then his fever's gone up and he's not keeping food down. His brother said that if he got much worse, he'd be dragging him to a doctor."

"I'll give you the money for the train journey, Kurt. It's only a few dollars."

"Thank you so much dad."

"Hey no problem. I love you..."

"I love you too!"

...

Kurt sneaked through the door, stepping on his tip-toes just incase his poor little boyfriend was sleeping. He was met by Cooper's face, contorted with concern before he'd even managed to get to the 'dying' man. He asked him how Blaine was doing, but Cooper replied with nothing but a sigh and a shake of his head. He was in the process of cleaning up after Blaine's last gagging session, thankful that his brother hadn't inherited his projectile method and had only brought up a tiny bit.

"What's his temperature at?" Kurt asked as he placed his ice cold hand onto Blaine's head, which was a bit too warm for his liking.

"Last time I checked- which was about an hour ago- it was around 103..." Cooper ran his hand through his mop of greasy hair, placing the newly cleaned trash can beside his brother.

"If it gets any higher, we're driving him down to the ER, alright?"

"Trust me, I've been so close to it for the past hour or two. He's definitely not himself. Not one insult in the time he's been here...I'm surprised.

"Hey..." Kurt whispered. "How you feeling?"

"M'cold. Not shivery or anything. Just cold. Coop gave me his hoodie, which is helping but...yeah. I missed you."

"I missed you too. Not feeling so good, are you?"

"Nope."

"I'm going to take your temperature, if that's okay."

"S'fine."

"My dad let me borrow his electrical ear thermometer if you'd prefer that to the one you have to put in your mouth."

"Okay."

The thermometer beeped almost automatically once it was placed into the ear. Kurt stared at the numbers, trying to decide what to do.

"What is it?" Cooper looked over.

"104.4."

"What do you think we should do?"

"Considering the fact that I heard someone say fevers over 105 can cause seizures, and the fact that he seems pretty damn dehydrated... Blaine, honey?"

"Mmm?" he mumbled incoherently.

"I think you're a bit dehydrated, and Coop says that you haven't really been able to keep water down. We're going to take you down to the ER as a precaution okay."

He mumbled a yes, before babbling incoherently to get them to agree to change about their last names, and something about the case and the psychopathic Mr Rivers from Kurt's first case with Blaine. Kurt ignored the context of his rambling, assuming that it was just his fever talking, but they'd agreed to do what he'd said to keep him happy. They helped him out to Cooper's car, placing the trashcan on his lap just in case. Kurt sat beside him, placing a flannel dipped in cold water onto his boyfriend's head and nodding for Cooper to drive.


	26. The Dying Detective:Better

The two of them had to practically drag the burning lethargic lump of Blaine across to the door of the hospital. They stopped for a moment as Blaine had refused to walk much further, before he dry retched and shuddered.

The awful antibacterial smell hit them almost as soon as the doors creep open. The stench intertwines with other odious scents, from the rotten smell coming from the old man in the corner, to the injured kid in the corner who smelt like a walking bottle of sour milk. The deafening noise of the hustle and bustle of moving chairs, and sobbing kids and loud nurses didn't do much to help Blaine's migraine, as the sound waves crept inside of his ears, racking and taunting him. He buried his head into Kurt's shoulder, mumbling something about how he was the love of his life, and how he felt like death and pestilence and famine and whatever the other horsemen were run over, beat up and torn to shreds, and how the 'creeper in the trench coat' was going to come and get him.

"My brother, he's sick. I don't even know how he's conscious with such a high fever, and he's not had anything to drink for a while, because he can't keep it down." Cooper explained to the receptionist.

Even when sick, Blaine could easily deduct from the edginess in the way the woman was sitting on her seat, that her shift was over soon, and she didn't really care much for the man stood in front of her.

"As long as he isn't vomiting currently, you'll have to sit in the waiting room. There's been a huge car pile up on the highway, so all of resus and most of the ER rooms are full, and as you can see this place is extremely busy..." she didn't even look up, and continued reading the magazine that lay sprawled across her desk. "Obviously, you'll have to wait quite a bit, as minors have the priority of being seen first. Fill out this sheet."

...

"Honestly Margaret!" a doctor appeared, his white coat circling as he stepped into the room and stared at the receptionist. "The only kid here is someone who has hurt his finger, and most of the ER rooms are free, believe it or not. This poor guy should've been seen ages ago! Blaine _Hummel_ is it? Come through here, and I'll get you seen to."

"I'm solving the case Kurt...Don't interfere." he slurred in a whisper as the climbed onto the uncomfortable bed thing.

"I'm Doctor Clouse, and I'll be taking care of you while you are here. It seems like you have the flu, don't you think?"

"Well you're the doctor, not us." Cooper glared at him.

"Anyway, we'll take you up to the ward in a moment and get you an IV drip and some medicine to bring down your temperature, and once you're rehydrated, you'll be able to return home. And I must apologize, but your friends will have to leave, I'm sorry, but it's hospital rules. Visiting hours are over, and don't actually apply to this department either."

"I'm his brother!"

"You can stay, but you? You have to go."

"Blaine Anderson..." he smiled as Kurt left, turning towards the limp bundle on the bed, making him wince because he knew his real name. "I heard you were dedicated to solving your cases, but getting this sick, just to meet me? Oh god, I'm flattered. I wasn't involved with the Doctor Rivers thing. I knew nothing of it!"

"How'd you know that's why I did it? You just knew I was coming to find out if you were responsible for something." Blaine suddenly seemed better at the prospect of his case. "And now you've practically just admitted it."

"Look, just take him up to the ward, stick that IV in his arm for a little bit and send him home, okay?" Cooper stepped forward.

"Not until he tells me how he was involved. And if he doesn't, I'll puke on him. And judging by the look on his face, he's quite the emetephobic."

"I got him the names, okay? The medical records. I made sure he got certain patients."

"And how do you know me?"

"We have our sources."

"Give me a name, or... Yeah I'm starting to feel nauseous..." Blaine taunted.

"I'm just going to send you up to the ward okay?"

"I'm just going to get Cooper to get Kurt to phone the police, okay?"

"You don't have any evidence..."

Cooper smiled, waving his phone at the short, odd looking man. He turned to his brother, feeling guilty that poor Blaine had let himself get so sick, all for the sake of solving a case. This was the brother he knew. The brother who was willing to sacrifice his good health, food and sleep, just to prevent people from being murdered, or injured or scared out of their wits. The brother who'd cling onto his last ounce of energy to bring the world to justice. The brother who understood right from wrong, and wanted everyone else to understand it too. He hid his small smile as a nurse led Blaine to the ward, knowing that his ever observant brother had noticed it anyway, and signalled to Kurt down the corridor that it was fine to come and join them.

"Blaine seems better." Kurt laughed, clutching his boyfriend's hand.

"The little bitch got sick just to solve a case." Cooper clutched at Blaine's shoulder playfully."

"Jerk..." Blaine made a puppy-dog face. "Be nice to me, I'm sick."

"Look Kurt, I'm going to get the evil doctor guy in jail or whatever it is I'm meant to do. You look after my little brother, okay?"


	27. The Dying Detective:Unsolved

**I would like to mention that I'm in the process of writing a Superwholock fic called 'Children Of Gallifrey', which can be found on my fanfiction profile, and on my tumblr under the tag Children-Of-Gallifrey, or Superwholock which the link to is on my profile too:) If that interests you, I'd appreciate it if you'd give it a read :)  
><strong>

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><p>He's run off." Cooper glared down the corridor, his brow furrowing in frustration. "The stupid bitch of a doctor's made a run for it before the police could get him.<p>

Blaine- who for some reason was completely uninterested in his case, and instead fixated his eyes on the little cardboard bowl at his bedside, waiting for the upcoming moment where it'd be blessed with his bile- stared over at his brother, but refused to say anything, partly because he didn't really have much to say, and partly because if he was to speak, he'd probably upchuck all over himself. Kurt, looking slightly exhausted from the day's events, hadn't taken much notice of his boyfriend, except for the fact that the grip of Blaine's hand clutching at his seemed to be getting weaker and weaker as time passed by slowly. Thankfully, the unusually observant nurse had seen Blaine's jaw clench tightly, and bounced over just in time for him to be able to retch into something, as opposed to over himself.

"You two should be watching him!" The nurse joked as she attended to Blaine. "Instead of playing detective. You okay?"

"M'fine. Just all the hustle and bustle got to me..." Blaine sighed, lying back into his pillow. "M'feeling better than I did earlier."

"Your fever's going down, that's why. You'll be able to go in a couple of hours, once you've rehydrated. I can tell you're not the type who likes lying in bed for ages, so we'll make sure we get you back on your feet in no time." she smiled, looking a bit too familar.

"Do I know you?" he inquired, immediately realising he'd already known who she was.

"Let's just say this isn't the first time I've seen you puke your guts out. Only the first time, it was because you stupidly ingested copper sulphate. I trained as a nurse when I left school, and decided I wanted to go a bit further in my career and become a paramedic and I did, but... Nursing is for me, so here I am."

"And this time, you stupidly infected yourself with some illness..." Cooper laughed.

"Quinn Fabray." the nurse smiled, holding out her hand. "So you're solving another case here, today?"

"Attempting to. The guy's just run off. Doctor Clouse? Did you know him?"

"One of the best doctors here! The patients love him!"

"Well they won't if they find out he was involved with Doctor Rivers' plan."

"Doesn't something... not seem right?" Blaine thought aloud.

"Like?"

"I mean, how do they know me? Who's this mysterious source with the information? How does he know me?"

Cooper shrugged.

"I know they've got a source..." Blaine mumbled.

"I've actually been looking into this since the incident with Doctor Rivers. I mean... My detective skills are nothing like yours, but I think it might be Sebastian..." Kurt piped up. "There was just... something about him."

"Sebastian Smythe? Kurt he's harmless."

"His dad was a nutjob, though." Cooper added.

"Doesn't mean he is."

"Why are you defending him?" Kurt snapped.

"Well I'm sorry, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm a pretty good judge of character."

"So now you're trying to imply that I'm stupid compared to your massive intellect? All I'm saying is, it's a bit... fishy that his dad was involved in the incident at Dalton, and how he was involved with Santana too..."

"Yet I didn't know him before we visited Dalton..."

"You knew his dad, kind of."

"And how would you know he's involved here?"

"I'm not an idiot Blaine. I've seen Sebastian around the hospital today, just lurking. I'm convinced it's him..."

"Anyway, we'll have to give up this case for a bit. We're not going to catch him."

...

"You scared us, Blainers..." Cooper smiled, helping his still under the weather brother onto Kurt and Blaine's couch. "You were pretty sick when we took you into the hospital."

"I'm..." Blaine swallowed down the guilt that was rising in his throat. "I'm so sorry."

"What have you to be sorry for, Blaine?" Kurt patted his boyfriend's knee comfortingly. "You couldn't help being sick."

"The day I went missing, and didn't call or anything? I was... making myself ill. Spending loads of time with sick people to try and get a cold or a flu or something..."

"Blaine..."

"I had to have a believeable excuse to get into that hospital, so getting sick was the only sure fire way that it would work. I just thought... get a little sick so you're already kind of worried, and then get hurt, so you'd be even more worried than if I just got hurt..."

"Blaine..."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I..."

"Blaine, I forgive you."


	28. The Final Problem:Before

**I'm so sorry for not updating in god knows how long! I've gotten really into writing my Superwholock fic, 'Children of Gallifrey' and this story just hasn't been flowing at all... I feel really bad, because this is so short, but... Yeah, this is a filler chapter.**

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><p>In all of Blaine's lifetime, he'd never witnessed crime like it. Stories of kidnappings and murders and burglaries and other crimes being committed infected the newspapers, spreading into the conversations of ordinary people's day to day lives. Puck, along with multitudes of other members of the metropolitan police, had swarmed him with cases, all of which seemed too collosal for those responsible to have committed.<p>

He'd gotten calls from Nick and Jeff, asking him if he'd seen Sebastian, as he'd gone AWOL, which only added to the thick ball of doubt that filled his throat, making him think that maybe Sebastian wasn't as harmless as he thought after all.

"_Another _giant insurance scam..." Kurt slammed the paper down on the coffee table in front of him. "It's as if some villianous mastermind is granting criminals' wishes like some kind of corrupt genie."

"Now that's a film I'd pay to see." Blaine laughed, opening the paper to read the article. "Dr Evil and the magical lamp, granting wishes to nerdy loners who seek revenge on the guys that got the girls, and the creepy dying old guys who want to kill everyone else too."

"I'm serious though, Blaine. Don't you think this is all linked?"

"Of course it's all linked. That guy who organized that huge burglary in Colorado was an idiot. There's no way on Earth he organized that."

"Or that kidnapping at the school in Dallas? Poor guy wouldn't have the courage to leave his house on an ordinary basis, let alone go into somewhere as busy as a school. And those two doctors... Obviously, someone was in control of the operation."

...

He stood in the middle of the woods a few miles away from Dalton, waiting for the car to come and pick him up. The shining black car swerved round the corner, so he could see it from the trees. He picked up his pace, running past the trees as fast as he could to get to the vehicle, his hoodie circling. It was slightly out of place for the state's biggest criminal for him to be so informally dressed, but otherwise, people would catch onto his stealthiness, and stop believing he was nothing more than a sarcastic bastard.

"Sebastian." the voice was Dr Clouse's. "You're looking well."

"How did dad's court case go?" his voice was slightly broken, half hoping his dad was found guilty.

"Unfortunately, your father isn't as skillful at dodging persecution like you."

"Skillful? I've assisted people in some of the biggest crimes in the state. I'm more than skillful."

He glared over his shoulder, cursing under his breath at his father. Behind the mask of his crimes and cocky attitude, Sebastian was nothing more than a vulnerable man, living in fear of his idiotic father finally reaching insanity. He thought back to when Blaine had visited Dalton all those months back, remembering the burning jealousy he felt in the pit of his stomach when he saw how adjusted the man was.


	29. The Final Problem:Red Herring

**Bet you didn't think this would ever get updated! I realise I haven't updated this since... June last year? I've been completely uninspired, and I've been writing Superwholock for so long that I completely forgot about it, and I've had bucket loads of stuff at school to contend with(prelim exams, and just tests in general) so... but anyway, I've been inspired recently so decided to continue.**

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><p>To say that Sam Evans 'hadn't been himself' since his father was murdered would be an understatement. It was as if every little part of him had been drained, leaving a child-like mess behind for Mercedes to pick up the pieces. Some days, he'd just stare into space, not once uttering a word. Mercedes could do nothing more than watch him, desperately hoping that the next day wouldn't be another bad one, but then again, most days were. On worse days, he'd cry or scream or spiral into a furious rage, and Mercedes just had to comfort him or try and calm him down. On his good days he would speak, finally explaining slightly about how he felt, yet not once mentioning the full truth.<p>

When Mercedes had to leave to go to work, or just to get out of the house for a bit, she'd tell the neighbours to look out for him, but somehow she never thought she did. She didn't know about the mysterious man who'd sneak in each day, and psyche out poor Sam a little more. Not until that day.

"What's this?" she held up the hoodie that sat oddly in front of the door.

"Not mine," it being one of Sam's good days, he responded quickly.

"Sam, whose is it? We're the only two who have been in this house-"

"No. We're the only three."

"Sammy, who has been in our house?"

"The-... The... I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "He comes everyday. He talks to me about my father's death-... about his last words... He tells me not to trust certain people, but I don't trust him. He scares me- he's... he must be why I'm so...messed up in the head."

"I'm telling Blaine and Kurt about this. They will find this man, Sam. They'll find this man and they'll put him behind bars, do you hear me?"

...

"All I know, is that this hoodie belongs to him," Mercedes explained, handing it to Blaine.

"Sebastian," Blaine immediately mutters. "It's Sebastian."

"He needs to be arrested-"

"He's not just responsible for this, Mercedes. We're trying to find him, but he's always one step ahead."

"What I don't understand is why," Kurt joined in with the conversation. "What benefit does it have to him to mess with Sam's mind?"

"This man is telling Sam to doubt his trust in certain people- you don't need to be that clever to realise that it is us who he has not to trust. Using the existing grief about his dad's death, he's contorted the way Sam thinks, and eventually, Sebastian will be able to be used as a weapon to bring me down. Think what the press could write! The press would have a field day."

"Don't leave Sam in the house alone," Kurt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Don't worry, I made sure someone was there before I left to come here. It's all okay."

...

"How did you know the hoodie was Sebastian's?" Kurt raised an eyebrow towards Blaine, who sat on their sofa, with his knees curled up towards his chest; his thinking pose.

"I didn't know, I noticed," Blaine nodded. "It had been in his dormitory back when we were at Dalton, and he'd worn it quite a few times."

"I just don't get why he'd be so careless to leave his jacket there-"

"He meant to. He did it purposefully, intending to rope me in; get me interested. And it has worked. I'm interested."

"Sebastian's a rat, Blaine," Kurt protested. "We shouldn't get involved with this case-"

"It's what he wants me to do-"

"Then don't do it."

"If I can get one step ahead of him..."

"And what if you can't?"

"You doubt my abilities, Hummel."

"I'm just saying- Sebastian is devious and clever, and he'll be throwing you red herrings- hey, why are we so sure that this isn't one? What if Sebastian planted that hoodie to lead you towards him, and it's someone else whose been messing with Sam?"

"I didn't say Sebastian was the man. I just said that this was Sebastian's jacket. I've taught you well."

"And still, I bet you don't know who Obama is."

"You doubt me again. President, right? Not a musical."

"You know," Kurt laughed, a grin spreading across his face. "You're an idiot."

"But you love me," Blaine grinned back, pulling Kurt towards him. "And I love you too."

"We should set to work, Blaine. We're not going to get to the bottom of this if we just sit around all day. I'll research, you... delve into your mind palace and think.


	30. The Final Problem:The Accomplice

If Sebastian Smythe held the crown for being one of the most evil men in the state, his accomplice Hunter Clarington came a very close second. For understandable reasons, neither trusted the other much, despite being in such close collaboration. Hunter's aggression and quick temper had earned him a reputation for being feared, but deep down, Sebastian was the more terrifying of the pair. His way of making people think he was a good man, before kicking them to the kerb had left many wishing they'd never made a deal with such a devil. Any man that could convince the one and only Blaine Anderson that he was harmless deserved that kind of recognition.

You'd have thought he'd have been shoved into jail at some point, but his way with words and his use of others to leave the fingerprints and make the fatal mistakes left him without a word against his name; he was nothing more than the man controlling the operations, at the very centre of the web. His alliance with Hunter was far aside from this, and much stronger than his links with those such as his father and the murdering pair of doctors. Hunter was just as clever as Smythe, maybe even cleverer. He knew how Sebastian could target Blaine, and every so often, he knew he could easily stay one step ahead of the consulting detective. Whilst Sebastian wouldn't trust the man on a personal level, he trusted his judgement highly, and knew that if he'd suggested something, it would most definitely work. Of course, Sebastian himself was responsible for most of the decisions made, but it didn't stop Hunter from being heavily involved too.

In fact, it had been Hunter who had been messing with Sam's mind, although it had been Sebastian's idea to use this to get to Blaine.

"Blaine knows?" Hunter looked up towards Sebastian, his brow furrowed in thought. "He thinks its you."

"Of course he doesn't, you _swine_," Sebastian barged past him as he paced the floor. "He knows that it's my jacket."

"You're not going to be able to beat him, Seb. He's too clever for you."

"Shut up, or I'll put Splenda in that coffee of yours."

"Wow. I'm shaking in my boots. You aren't being subtle enough about this-"

"We want to lead Blaine towards us, you idiot! It's all about dropping all of these not so subtle hints. It has to be unsubtle, or else the press won't believe what we're going to tell them."

"You've thought this through, haven't you?"

"Of course I have."

"I'm not going to even ask about your plan."

"I didn't say I was going to tell you about my plan, did I?"

...

"Blaine, would you leave your mind palace for a minute just to eat, please!" Kurt begged jokingly.

"What if I've just been in the kitchen of my mind palace and just ate my breakfast?" Blaine grinned, before going to grab his plate from the kitchen. "I'm just kidding with you."

"Wow, what an amazing deduction that was Blaine," he clapped sarcastically in response, going to collect the mail from the front door. "Junk... Junk... This one's mailed to you... and yet more junk.

Blaine's eyes widened at the sight of the handwriting, written in swirly red ink; _Sebastian. _He knew that a letter wasn't contained inside from the way the envelope sat, so it was no surprise when a white powder trickled out from the side of the paper instead.

"Sugar," he took a taste, shaking his head in disgust at the sweetness. "That's definitely sugar."

"What the hell does sugar mean?"

"There will be more clues soon, I believe. This is just the first."

"Any news on how Sam's doing?"

"Better, now. The guy hasn't shown up in days."

"Any news on who this guy is?"

"Hunter. Hunter Clarington."

"And you know this...how?"

"The internet it a wonderful thing. Don't doubt it's magical powers."

"Who is this Hunter Clarington guy anyway?"

"Sebastian's bitch," Blaine grinned. "Nah, I'm just kidding. He's like... You know how Sebastian hasn't been caught because he tricks people into thinking he's a good guy? The one reason why Hunter's not been convicted of any crimes is because he uses fear to get to them. If Sebastian's a serpent, Hunter's like... a shark?"

"Brilliant analogy there Blaine... So you're saying Hunter's violent?"

"Violent? That's a bit of an understatement there, Kurt."

"How do you know all this stuff anyway?"

"I knew him. He went to Dalton, although he left not too long after I arrived. The guy was absolutely mental. I'm almost positive he killed one of the professors in an angry rage once."


End file.
